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OF THE 


FRENCH-GERMAN WAR. 


BY 


RUDOLPH LEONHART, A. M., 

AUTHOR OF 

“Dolores,” “Light and Shade,” “A Poet’s Life in America,” “The 
Mysterious Peddler,” “The Guerrilla,” “Who is it?” 

“The Plot of ’75,” etc. 



German unity can cnly be accomplished through blood and iron. 

Otto y. Bismark. 


Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1S71 by Rudolph Leoniiart, in the Office of the 
Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


PITTSBURGH, PA. 

Ernst Luft & Co., Book and Job Printers and Book Binders, Gth Aye, 


1871 , 



?Z -r 
, l s 53 T 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IBON. 


— -H-8 g 8 » — 

CHAPTER I. 

The year of our Lord 1870 was ushered in like all the previous 
children of time : little thought of, less cared for. During its first 
months nobody dreamed of the importance it was to acquire m 
chronology ; of the bloody dye with which it was to register its 
events in the annals of history. If anything, its aspect was of a 
drowsy nature, resulting perhaps from the continued attempt at 
Rome to draw the medieval night-cap over the face of a modern 
age. Its spring smiled as sweetly as ever upon Southern Ger- 
many, and on no portion of that fair land did the sun shine with 
greater brightness, than on the highly favored city of Munich. 
Beautiful Munich ! Finest jewel in the crown of Bavaria ! Thou 
art perhaps more properly called the Athens on the Isar, than 
hy more presuming sister on the sands of Brandenburg the 
‘•Athens on the Spree.” Science is a household word in thy pre- 
cints; art a pastime for thy children. Vast libraries crowd thy 
princely halls, and the genius of Germany’s greatest sons has cov- 
ered with paintings and statues the walls of buildings which 
either imitate the classic temples of Greece and Rome, or surpass 
them in boldness of conceptin and beauty of execution. 

Yet wdth all thy art and learning thou hast managed to pre- 
serve a child-like simplicity which is equally preferable to the 
assuming conceit of Berlin, and the immorality and superficial 
gloss of Paris. 

How hast thou succeeded in thus avoiding the reefs on which 
the domestic virtues of other metropolitan cities wrecked? Does 
the geniality of thy clime preserve in thy enclosures a touch of 
the golden age ? Or art thou indebted for this enviable simpli- 
1 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


2 

city to that far-famed beverage which thy brewers know how to 
prepare, and thy land-lords to pour out to citizen and stranger in 
never-failing ab un dance ? 

This question is hard to decide; but he who has sat in the 
pleasant vaults and gardens of Munich, and quaffed away his cares 
in that golden flood which other towns and other nations have 
thus far vainly tried to imitate: such a one, I venture to say, 
would hardly underrate the influence which tne favorite beverage 
of Munich has exercised upon the disposition of her citizens. 

Step with me into the basement of a fashionable restaurant. 
The weather has hardly become sufficiently settled, to entice the 
people into the open gardens, and the inhabitants of Munich 
therefore prefer the greater comfort and equal dispensations 
which establishments of the above character are apt to offer. We 
find the guests scattered around arliumber of small tables, busily 
engaged in discussing the topics of the day, and emptying the 
large glasses with* a zeal which is only emulated by the exertions 
which the waiters make in replenishing the waning' supply. 

It is a lively spectacle, for every guest advocates his opinion 
with word and gesture; but he, who expects to behold such scenes, 
as are almost daily enacted in American saloons, is much mis- 
taken. The raised voice, the energetic gesture never overstep 
the boundaries of propriety, and we finish our round through the 
spacious establishment without witnessing a single word or act 
which would bring a frown upon the brow of the most fastidious. 

We notice more than one thoughful face on which the foaming 
beverage has failed to leave the slightest impi ession. This is 
especially the case with a couple of guests who sit in a far-off 
corner by themselves, deeply engaged in conversation, but yet 
sufficiently attentive to their surroundings to convince them- 
selves, that their half-whispered words remain their sole posses- 
sion. This caution and secrecy attracts our attention, and our 
gaze, once attracted, adheres to the interesting spectacle. The 
more we gaze at these men, the more we feel convinced that they 
furnish no common objects of observation. Both are well dressed, 
and betray by* look and [bearing the fact that they are members 
of the higher classes of society. They are apparently between 
fifty and sixty, and the black hair which protrudes from under 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


3 


their felt hats, shows numerous streaks of gray. They bear a 
sufficient resemblance to warrant our belief that they are rela- 
tives, perhaps brothers. Their features are well formed, showing 
that square, massive cut which we so frequently notice amongst 
the Bavarians. 

Their resemblance, however, merely extended to the features, 
not their expression. While the one, and evidently the elder, 
preserved an equanimity through which only a stealthy, lurking 
glance stole itself now and then, the other seemed rather nervous 
in Ins motions and generally coupled his words and gestures with 
a glance from his black eyes, so dark and foreboding, as to fasten 
upon him our suspicion of carrying his political and, maybe, re- 
ligious opinions to zealotry and intolerance. Guessing, however, 
is at best a poor way of arriving at conclusions, and if we are 
really anxious to learn more about the two whisperers in the cor- 
ner, let us step behind the heavy pillar in their neighborhood, and 
listen to their conversation. 

“I foily agree with you, brother Ignatz,” we hear the elder say 
with that unction of tone which the preacher so frequently car- 
ries from the pulpit into every-day life, “these are ominous times . 
Church and State are daily threatened and assailed by innovators, 
and the injurious leaven appears to spread constantly amongst 
the people.” 

“No Joseph! Let me hope that your anxiety for the good 
cause lets you see things in too gloomy a light. I never doubted 
that iniquity and treason prevailed in high circles, and that the 
counsellors of the king were sadly forgetful of their sacred trust; 
but the mass of the people, Joseph: let me hope, that they at 
least are sound to the core, and reject the dangerous doctrines of 
civil and religious liberty with which demagogues endeavor to 
catch their vote and their support/* 

The other shook his head. 

“I wish I could leave you in your delusion; a} r e — more than 
that — I wish I could join in it. But the signs of the day are too 
plain to be mistaken. Do not the enemies of our national inde- 
pendence and our religious unity daily meet in council and allure 
thousands on to the path of ruin? Do they not openly advocate 
the renouncement of our national sovereignty and the annexation 


4 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


to Prussia, the arch enemy of our country ? Do they not openly 
counsel resistance to the highest decrees of our holy church, tho* 
passed by the sacred body of the bishops united? No, no, Ig- 
natz; let them but gain the majority of the mob, and they will 
speedily pull down the venerable institutions, to build up and 
perpetuate which, so many great and sainted men have lived, la- 
bored and died.” 

“Perhaps you are right;” replied Ignatz after a short pause 
and with a melancholy accent. “Indeed, I am sure you are right, 
for thus far I have always had occasion to acknowledge your su- 
perior wisdom and penetration. But granting that you are right : 
is there no remedy for this dreadful evil ? Are you like the phy- 
sician, who can point out the disease, but is incapable of curing 
it?” 

“No Ignatz, I am not like that physician,” the other replied 
even more guardedly, sending forth at the same time that lurking 
glance which we noticed before. “I rejoice to say that I am not 
only in possession of an infallible remedy for this dangerous dis- 
ease, but shall not fail to apply it, if I can be sure of the need* 
ful support within and without the folds of our holy church.” 

“Sure of it!” exclaimed Ignatz with a zeal, whose loudness the 
other thought proper to dampen by a timely warning. “You 
surely do not mean to intimate that we are tardy in upholding 
you, after so many proofs of our zeal?” 

“No, Ignatz, that I do not,” Joseph replied soothinglj'. “Our 
friends have done well enough; but you must not forget that this 
is no common danger which threatens us. Extraordinary cases 
require extraordinary treatment, and so you can hardly accuse 
me of severity, if I say that our past efforts are unequal to the 
emergency. The mine is laid; the mine destined to blow the en- 
emies of our time-honored institutions into atoms; but before I 
can be sure of a united support unto death, I shall not venture 
to apply the match which, if falsely handled, may effect our own 
ruin. It was for the purpose of discussing this point with you, 
that I sought this interview, Ignatz.” 

“And it shall bear fruit, Joseph ; it shall bear ample fruit. Not 
a day, not an hour shall I tarry in stirring up such friends of 
mine, as are likely to assist us in our noble enterprise. And more 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


5 

than this will I do, Joseph: I will at once and forever renounce 

those who refuse to make this holy cause their own. I will ” 

“Stop, brother Ignatz!” the other now interrupted the enunci- 
ation with something like a sarcastic smile upon his lips. “Do 
not, as the proverb has it, pour out the child with the bath. We 
shall be bold like lions, but also wise like serpents. You must 
not, by violence, drive those into the hostile camp who might 
still join our cause, provided a back-door were left open to them,” 
“Again I bow before your superior wisdom, Joseph; but, pray 
brother, delay no longer the information regarding the means 
which you expect to use, in order to accomplish your glorious 
purpose.” 

“Very well, my brother, listen then,” Joseph resumed with an- . 
other cautious glance. “You know well that I do not believe in 
enlightening the great mass of the people, because the condition 
of mankind is such, as to make this knowledge insufficient and, 
therefore, injurious. To give the child the knowledge of the 
man , might not only, but surely would endanger its happiness 
and even its life. Therefore, let the child remain in ignorance. 
The mass also is nothing but a child, and — this I fear at least — 
will always remain one. Would we therefore not act imprudently 
in enlightening the people on subjects which would prove injuri- 
ous to them? Verily, this is my honest belief and the principal rea- 
son, why I am so much opposed to republican institutions. Now 
if I conscientiously believe that it would be injurious to the peo- 
ple to receive a light, whose only effect would be to dazzle them: 
would it not be doubly wrong and infinitely more detrimental to 
them to receive into their own hands a weapon whose edge they 
would be in constant danger of turning against themselves? No 
Ignatz; if yonr experience has not already taught you the truth 
of this: believe me, the time will come, when you will turn from 
the crowd in disgust, and confess yourself an adherent to the 
first and rudimental principle of my policy.” 

“Alas! Joseph, my experience has long ago forced me to the 
same conclusion. It pains me to admit this much; but your prin- 
ciple contains nothing which might forbid my co-operation. 
But proceed ; you have not yet made your application of this 
.doctrine.” 


6 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


“Why Ignatz, can you not draw the inference yourself? If we 
must keep the people out of knowledge and power, we must man- 
age to give them the 'proper guardians to rule them in accord- 
ance with our long and well established views* Here then is the 
cause I want you to canvass well amongst the high and favored 
few, in order to gain as many to our views as possible*” 

"And further, Joseph ?” 

“Further? Well never mind, Ignatz. Leave the rest to me. 
You are anything but an intriguer, and yet to intrigue and to 
fight for influence at court constitutes the rest* I know you will 
thank me for saving you such work: will you not, brother?” 

“You are always my good, considerate Joseph. It would indeed 
be repugnant to me to assist in any under-hand game. If this is 
a weakness, depend o a that I shall make up for it by zeal in 
other matters. But It is gating late, and if I tarry longer, 1*11 
miss my dinner* Will you be our guest, Joseph?” 

“No, thank you, fgw.J z. ; Chapter meets to-day, and as we 
have to act on impoibuM b ’ :e , I cannot venture to absent 
myself. ‘God’s service bwU • b i end’s mrvice,’ you know.” 

“An axiom hard to m \ * Murer ell, then, Joseph.” 

“Farewell brother! Bub ■ a moment, Ignatz. I intended 
to speak to you about o domo-.d io matter, but forgot it over 
more important affairs* Me w, 'w.m think of it, I may as well 
make a clean, breast of lb M .Mu too, Ignatz, and if I 

were not sure of your gm , Mb M iry brotherly love, I would 
hardly summon courage f. - y a .dmMy.” 

U A long prearqhle h,” smiling. ‘ If I did 

not know my M a • y n r,i Ml oi me.” 

“Perhaps I am . . be Mod in a 

short little question : M b a a a much 

Interest in your my . -m . ir ’ 

“A queer question MuMmlM • a Ignatz, Mb? am Mulshed* 

.half .indignant* “I must con : ass .. b to comprehend you.” 

'“Wiel], thru, LM me shape ray w orb 3 a little differently : Do you 
taka . ..Mi' / : ■' ' ■ M b . . doings?'- ’ , ,, . ...- 'I * M it 

This : qivXtiou a by more offensive than the first one,, 

.a ud the look of aa ger which ’'hashed from Ignatz’ eye showed 
plainly that a less intimate friend might have drawn a quick re T% 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


tort upon himself for this bold interference in domestic mat- 
ters. The control, however, which Joseph evidently exercised 
over his brother was too perfect to yield even to so serious a 
provocation, and when Ignatz spoke, his voice showed nothing 
but surprise and, maybe, a touch of reproach. 

“Take sufficient interest in her doings!” he repeated. “Why! 
I thought you knew me better than to ask such questions. Rii- 
degard is my last and only child, and all the interest I take in 
life centers in her person.” 

“I know, brother, I know, and I am therefore doubly surprised 
to learn from outsiders that there are movements developing in 
your house which are in glaring contrast with j^our sentiments 
and professions.” 

“You speak in riddles, Joseph. Would it not be more brotherly 
to drop metaphors and speak plainly?” 

“I intended no mystification, Ignatz; on the contrary, I thought 
the slightest hint sufficient to enlighten you as to my meaning. 
I allude to nothing but the frequent visits of that Prussian officer 
at your house and his apparent intimacy with your family. This 
intimacy is the topic of remarks all over the city, and Madam 
Rumor speaks of an engagement between Hildegard and the 
Captain as an established fact.” 

During these words the blood had gradually risen to the tem- 
ples of Ignatz, so that he presented a very flushed and excited 
appearance. His breath went quickly and heavily, and his right 
hand grasped the ivory head of his cane, as if he meant to crush 
it to pieces. 

“Madam Rumor must be mistaken, brother Joseph,” he replied 
with that low and forced voice which sends its accents forth with 
considerable distinctness. “My daughter cannot possibly have 
thus far forgotten her own dignity and the well-known sentiments 
of her father, as to throw her affection away on a man belonging 
to that accursed race which is the hereditary enemy of Bavaria. 
Captain Haller represents his government as military instructor 
of our troops, and his official capacity admits him to our court 
circles: how much more then to my humble house? How ever 
much I hate his nation, I cannot disregard the usages of civilized 


8 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


society and shut my door against him, as long as he conducts 
himself with propriety.” 

“But if the rumor should prove correct?” 

“I cannot credit it.” 

“Why, brother, there are stranger freaks of girlish affection 
recorded.” 

“In such a case our connection would at once be severed, of 
course. But it cannot be, it cannot be!” 

“You can easily investigate the matter now.” 

“I can and will, Joseph, depend upon it. Receive my thanks 
for a hint which may avert incalculable misery from my house £ 
But now farewell; or are you going in the same direction? So 
much the better; let us start in company.” 

As the brothers walked through the hall, they were respectfully 
greeted by nearly all the guests assembled, a proof that they were 
well known to the citizens of Munich. 

“Good day, Herr Justitzrath !” 

“Good day, your Reverence!” 

These exclamations met them on all sides, and they greeted 
and nodded in return, until they reached the entrance. For a 
while their ways ran together; but they walked side by side with- 
out uttering a word. The last subject of their conversation had 
evidently made them thoughtful. The counsellor at least hung 
his head and brooded over his unpleasant discovery, while his 
brother was altogether too considerate and prudent to trouble 
him with suggestions which he knew to be superfluous. If I 
have at all succeeded in portraying this worthy priest, the reader 
must be aware that, if honest belief in the principles he advo- 
cated formed the basis of his character, subtlety and cunning 
furnished the chief elements of the superstructure. He had in- 
stilled the necessary elements into his brother’s mind, and now 
left the process of fermentation to time and human nature. 

For a while, then, the two brothers walked silently side by side, 
and when after the expiration of a few minutes the divine stop- 
ped to turn into a side street, the counsellor returned his grip 
with a heartiness which proved that, however disagreable the 
imparted knowledge had been to him, it had in no wise impaired 
the deep and somewhat reverential affection he felt for his brother. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


9 


CHAPTER IL 

On parting from liis brother the counsellor quickened his steps, 
until he stopped before a handsome edifice on whose oaken door 
a plate of German silver paraded in Gothic letters the name of 
“Ignatz Feller, Counsellor at His Majesty’s Court of Appeals.” 

On ringing the bell he was admitted by the porter who saluted 
his master with a mien indicating both respect and affection. 

“ Where is my wife?” Feller asked rather abruptly. 

“Mrs. Feller is in her sitting-room.” 

“And my daughter?” 

“Miss Hildegard keeps her mother company.” 

The counsellor ascended a flight of stairs, and, opening a door 
at the landing, entered into a large comfortable room which com- 
bined the neatness and comfort peculiar to the sitting-room of a 
well-to-do German family. There was no carpet there; nor did 
the visitor see any of those gaudy trinkets, without which an 
English “parlor” or a French “salon” is considered imperfect. A 
few good pictures on the wall showed that the inmates were im- 
bued with the love of art so common in Munich. The furniture 
was mahogany, and dated from a period, when comfort and dura- 
bility were not as yet sacrificed for mere appearance. The floor 
was painted brown, with lighter stripes running crosswise and 
cutting it into squares. In one corner stood the massive stove 
of glazed tiles, resting on an iron base in which short blocks of 
wood produced an even and lasting heat. A large and taste- 
fully dj^ed basket contained even then the necessary fuel, and a 
faint glimmer under the sheet iron door showed that the ladies 
had not thought the season sufficiently advanced to dispense en- 
tirely with the genial influence of fire. The long wall opposite 
the windows was occupied by an old-fashioned sofa which, to- 
gether with a round table before it, spoke of pleasant family-re- 
unions. The short side opposite the door displayed an elegant 
piano, while the front wall was lined with a “throne,” i. e. a low 
platform about three feet wide running the whole length of the 
room and containing a fancy sewing-table and several arm-chairs 


10 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


which, thus elevated a foot or so above the level of the floor, of 
fered a splendid view upon the street below. 

They were occupied b}^ two ladies, an elder and a younger one, 
sitting vis-a-vis and working at some fancy work with all the 
zeal for which the daughters of Germany are famous. To relieve 
the tedious ness of the merely mechanical labor they kept up a 
lively conversation, allowing, moreover, their eyes to wander now 
and then to the street, in order to catch anything unusual which 
might be going on there. 

We know already that they are mother and daughter; but if 
we had been ignorant of this fact, a strong resemblance would 
have betrayed it. The elder lady could possibly be fifty, but 
would have looked considerably younger, if some deep furrows 
around the eyes and lips had not broken the otherwise smooth 
surface of her face. She showed traces of remarkable beauty; in 
fact, her countenance was one of those whose beauty seems to 
be independent of age. It bore the unmistakable impress of 
genuine goodness animated by the ray of intelligence which 
beamed forth from the large brown eyes. 

The younger lady opposite her intimated, how the elder 
had probably looked thirty years ago. She was uncommonly 
handsome, and bore that appearance of refinement wdiieh only 
thorough mental culture can bestow; but she was also free from 
those disgusting features with which modern fashions seems bound 
to disfigure the fair sex. There is a way of dressing in style, 
and yet guarding against absurd extremes of w T hich but few la- 
dies seem to be cognizant. Else,' why should they abstain from 
pursuing the only course calculated to make them appear to ad- 
vantage? There is a general fear amongst ladies to appear old- 
fashioned; but very few only seem to be conscious of the danger 
of being orer-fashionable. 

Miss Hildegard Feller — for thus the porter gave her name — 
was one of those ladies wdio charm more by absence of defects, 
than by striking qualities or remarkable beauty. She would not 
have come under the epithet of “brilliant,” which is necessary to 
secure the success of a belle at Saratoga. Her beauty was a 
quiet one, by which I understand by no means a languid, sleep}^ 
beauty. For that her eyes had too much brightness and con- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


11 


sciousness of mental power. Her face was regular and of a t} r pe 
holding the middle between the brunette and the blonde. Her 
hair w r as auburn, her eye hazel; her teint rather clear for a bru- 
nette, though lacking that dazzling whiteness which is generally 
coupled with fair or reddish hair. Her cheeks showed the bloom 
of youth, her lips and teeth the impress of health. 

The countenance of Hildegard Feller might well be compared 
to a fine landscape on a fair summer-morning, through whose 
hazy calmness the sun shines with a warmth indicative of latent 
power. That this power existed in her, nobody who had once 
looked deeply into her eyes, could well deny; but on common oc- 
casions this power came not into display. If Hildegard had been 
artful, one might have fancied that this reserve of hers was stud- 
ied; for even the finest display loses in attraction in proportion 
to the frequency of exposure; but such was not the case. The 
even tenor of her mind probably prevented an effervescence whieh 
deep natures only show on being deeply stirred; while shallow 
minds, like shallow waters, are ruffled bj T the slightest breeze. 
Hildegard was always true to herself; every w r ord, eveiy motion 
was in accordance with her character, and her company possessed 
a double charm, because one could enjoy it without the fear that 
some sudden freak, some ill-timed humor would mar the smooth- 
ness of her temper. 

As might be supposed, Hildegard had her body as much under 
her control as her mind. Every motion of hers was — not mea- 
sured, but natural, woman-like and therefore graceful. In this 
she was aided by a faultless figure, sufficiently high to lend dig 
nity to grace; but } r et light and lithe enough to exclude every 
thought of stiffness and awkwardness. 

If we add to this, that Hildegard was a good scholar and an 
ixcellenf performer on the pia/io, and that, withal, she had not 
r < " perfect herself in those matters appertaining to the 
iufi.es :• )od housekeeper, the reader will surely admit that 
her j I ev* v reason to congratulate themselves on the 

pusses, io:w ouch = daughter, and that her father might well 
pause, befoi • . c her happiness to prejudices which in- 

stigation and edu.. u . ad nurtured, and age and affliction fast- 
ened on .is mind. 


12 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


But will liis meditated step really affect her happiness? Has 
rumor correctly linked her name with that of the Prussian offi- 
cer? We shall see. 

When Mr. Feller stepped into the room, the ladies looked up 
and, on recognizing the new-comer, at once dropped both work 
and conversation. 

u Ah! long looked for, come at last!” said Mrs. Feller rising 
from her seat. “Christina announced dinner ready an hour 

ago, and if my worthy lord and master is half as hungry as 

but what is the matter Ignatz? You look excited ! Has anything 
gone wrong with you?” 

“Not with me, wife;” Feller replied with a somewhat stern voice, 
“but if Madam Rumor has not lied, there may be something 
wrong with you , my ladies.” 

“With us, Ignatz !” 

The great astonishment with which these words were uttered 
showed plainly, that 'the manner of Mr. Feller’s speaking was un- 
usual; that he was not what is generally styled a “house-tyrant,” 
a class uncommonly numerous in Germany, if we are to credit 
the reports of strangers traveling in that country. 

“If not with you, Elisa,” Feller resumed in softer tones, “per- 
haps with somebody else. Does this young lady understand the 
import of my words?” 

Hildegard had risen with her mother* She had at first mar- 
veled with her at her father’s conduct; but when he addressed 
the second pointed question to her alone, a sudden comprehen- 
sion of his meaning seemed to seize her. She placed her hand 
upon her heart, as if attacked by a sudden pain, and a deep red 
mantled her cheeks and spread to the very edge of her temples ; 
but if Mr. Feller expected an answer, he was disappointed. Hil- 
degard stood immovable, her eyes'bent to the floor; but although 
her lips remained sealed, she was unmistakably the prey of a 
deep inward emotion. 

Her silence brought a bitter smile to Mr. Feller’s lips. 

“Joseph was right after ail,” he said. “I would not believe 
him; but she has not a single word to defend herself. My last 
and only child rewards my care by bringing shame and sorrow 
upon my gray hair.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


13 


For a moment the frame of Hilclegard quivered and she made 
a rapid motion, as if she meant to yield to a sudden impulse and 
repel the accusation by a hasty rejoinder; but regaining her 
self-control as rapidly as she had lost it, she continued her silence, 
merety bowing more lowly, as if determined to bear her father’s 
judgment, unjust though it be. Mrs. Feller however showed 
more spirit and less patience. 

“Ignatz !” she exclaimed somewhat indignantly. “What do you 
mean by thus heaping mysterious accusations upon your daugh- 
ter? For heaven’s sake ! end this uncertainty and tell us what 
you mean !” 

“She understands me well enough,” said Feller, pointing to his 
daughter. “If she were so inclined, she might inform you that 
she has cast away the best feelings of her heart upon an enemy 
of her country. Yes, worse than this, she might inform you, that 
she carried her intimacy with that Prussian hireling so far, behind 
her parents’ back, that it became a topic for street gossip.” 

This accusation seemed more than Hildegard was able to en- 
dure. She raised her head, looked full into her father’s eyes and 
replied : 

“Whoever told you so, father, is guilty of a falsehood. I am 
unconscious of any intercourse with Captain Haller of which I 
need blush before God or man.” 

“Captain Haller!” exclaimed Mrs. Feller. “Is it of him you 
speak?” 

“A guilty conscience compelled her to betray the fatal secret. 
If there had been no undue intimacy between you and the Cap- 
tain: why this voluntaiy confession on your part?” 

“I would have been guilty of duplicity, if I had pretended not 
to understand you.” 

“Then you confess at least to an understanding with the Cap- 
tain which you thought proper to conceal from your parents?” 

For a moment girlish diffidence battled with her love of truth; 
but conquering this emotion she at last resumed: 

“There is such an understanding; but it only dates from yester- 
day.” 

“And how could you forget yourself so far, as to enter into a 
compact with a man who numbers with the enemies of your 


14 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


country? Were you not aware that your father would both loathe 
and reject such a union with all his might? Were you not aware 
that he would sooner see you the bride of death, than that of an 
accursed Prussian?” 

Hildegard for a moment shrank before these expressions of a 
fierce hatred; but gathering courage in the consciousness of a 
good cause, she replied : 

“The understanding with Captain Haller was no compact, father ; 
nor was it intended to remain a secret. When the Captain told 
me in an open manly way that he had formed an affection for 
me, and begged for a return of his feeliugs and the gift of my 
hand, I told him that my hand was not at my disposal, and that 
he must address my parents for a realization of his wishes.” 

<; And your affection, foolish child : did you tell him, that your 
affection was at his disposal?” 

“I told him the truth, father. I told him that his conduct had 
from the first gained him my sincere regard, and that, in case of 
my parents’ consent to our union, there was nothing in my feel- 
ings that would forbid the consummation of his hopes.” 

“And did you never, for a moment, consider the affliction 
which, by so doing, you would bring upon your parents, Hilde- 
gard?” 

“I did not, father. I always heard you speak of Captain Hal- 
ler in terms of regard; and as for mother, I know her to look 
upon him with both regard and affection.” 

“And so I do, Ignatz, to tell the truth of it. Captain Haller 
is a worth}?- young man, and I think your Christian principles 
ought to prevent you from carrying your hatred of his nation to 
such extremes !” 

“There! I thought as much!” exclaimed Feller with renewed 
bitterness. “Mother and daughter leagued to defeat my author- 
ity! But you shall not succeed, I warrant you. Eliza! Hilde- 
gard! Have you forgotten that my first-born son, your son and 
brother, was killed by the comrades of this Prussian hireling ?” 

“On the field of battle: yes!” replied Mrs. Feller. “But how 
can 3 ou blame Haller for that affliction, Ignatz ? Believe me, I 
mourn Albert’s death as deeply as you ; but I cannot brng my- 
self to blame for it a man, who is as innocent of it, as you or I. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


15 


'Captain I-Ialler did not provoke this war ; it was his government 
which commenced it, and, as some allege, with good cause. Hal- 
ler was bound by both his oath and honor to follow the standard 
of his king, and I like him only the better for the bravery which 
he is said to have displayed on all occasions. But he did not 
even light against our men, but served under Steinmetz in Bo- 
hemia. How then you can have the heart to blame him for Al- 
bert’s death, I am incapable of comprehending.” 

“If I dx\not blame him personally, the death of my poor boy 
has at least filled me with such aversion — not to say hatred — 
against his race that I cannot bring myse’f to consider him in 
the light of a friend — much less that of a son-in-law. Cease ar- 
guing the case then, and abstain from ever soliciting my consent; 
for as truly as the sun is shining on yonder heavens, unless a mir- 
acle converts the feelings ‘of my bosom into sheer love for the 
enemies of my country, this Prussian shall never enter my house 
as my son-in-law !” 

“And so j^ou are ready, to sacrifice the happiness of your 
daughter to the gratification of a groundless grudge?” 

“Groundless indeed!” Feller cried with a bitter laugh. “These 
Prussians come and invade my country; they destroy my property 
and infringe upon the pr ves of my monarch; to crown 

their work, they kill my hopeful son ; and yet I am told that my 
grudge against them is groundless!” 

“But beware, how you try my patience!” he resumed after a 
momentary pause, the remembrance of his wrongs having roused 
his ire to even a higher pitch. “I have lost one son on the battle 
field; another has rendered himself unworthy of the name of 
Feller by plunging into an ab} r ss of vice and dissipation. He, 
too, is dead for me to all intents and purposes, and there is but 
one child left to cheer the loneliness of 1113" old age. But before 
I surrender her to the arms of a Prussian soldier, I shall turn her 
from m3 7 door with a stone for her pillow and my curse for her 
inheritance. I am going to show this arrogant captain his pro- 
per place, and if 3 t ou value 3 r our peace and mine, you will abstain 
from meddling with my arrangements.” 

\V ith these words he left the room, slamming the door rather 
more heavil3 r than necessar3 T , and leaving the two ladies in a 


16 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


strange state of stupefaction, grief and sadness. For a while 
they maintained the same position, which they had occupied du- 
ring the whole painful scene; hut at last, when a heavy sigh wrung 
itself from Hildegard’ s bosom and struck her mother’s ear, the 
latter turned and, with an exclamation of endearment, drew her 
to her heart. 

“Poor child!” she exclaimed, stroking her hair and striving to 
gain a look into her eyes. “Who would have dreamt of such a 
thing? Why did you not confide your secret to me to break it 
to your father? I might have averted this fearful storm which 
threatens to blast your young love, before it has fairly budded 
into life.” 

“Alas ! mother, I had not the heart to tell you. I looked for 
him every minute to ask your consent, and I expected such great 
results from his eloquence that I was unwilling to spoil every- 
thing by my own poor efforts. Little did I dream that my ex- 
pectations would so soon be disappointed.” 

“Poor child! And do you really love him so very much?” 

“I hardly know, mother. I liked him from the first — how could 
I help it with his manly bearing and noble qualities? — but of late 
his company has indeed become very dear to me. When he told 
me how much he thought of me, I felt very happy, mother.” 

“Well, keep up your courage, Hildegard! We must not des- 
pair of a happy solution of this difficulty, in spite of your father’s 
violent opposition. As to me, I set great store upon the Captain, 
and would with pleasure welcome him as my son. Be assured, 
that I shall use my whole influence with your father to set mat- 
ters right.” 

Hildegard shook her head. 

“I have no hopes whatever, mother,” she said with a sad but 
resigned voice. “How could I, after listening to such fierce ex- 
pressions of hatred? The very fact, that father is generally so 
kind and considerate, destroys my hope that he will ever change 
in this respect.” 

“And you say that so quietly, Hildegard? If I did not know 
you better, I would say that your feelings for Captain Haller 
cannot be very ardent.” 

“Well, mother, what good would raving do? Would it not 








THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


17 


have the effect of making you miserable and adding to my own 
affliction ? I owe obedience to my father and like a dutiful daugh- 
ter I shall fulfill my obligation. He has the control of my hand; 
I shall not dispute his right. My heart is my own. I have given 
it to Hermann Haller and would not recover it, if I could. It is 
my father’s privilege to say that I shall never be Hermann’s 
wedded wife ;it is my privilege to refuse the suit of everybody 
else, and to this privilege, mother, I shall cling with unswerving 
tenacity. If I cannot be the wife of Hermann Haller, I shall go 
single through this life. But listen, mother! That is his step! 
Oh! how my heart beats! Hold me mother! my eyes fail me!” 

The alarmed mother received the trembling form of Hildegard 
in her arms, and half led, half carried her to the sofa. There 
the young lady recovered gradually, and smiled faintly to dispel 
her mother’s fear. 

“f am better, mother; I did not think I was so weak. I did 
not mean to, surely, and henceforth I shall struggle more bravely 
under this trial which Providence has seen proper to impose on 
me. But was I right in thinking he had come? He is with father 
now, listening to the death-knell of his hopes, as I listened to it 
a while ago. Mother, I must see him before he goes. I must , 
and, if needs be, in my father’s presence. Mother will you grant 
me this small, this only favor?” 

“I will, child,” replied Mrs. Feller, her eyes shining through 
tears. “You shall see Captain Haller, and if your father ten 
times decree the contrary. But I presume, he would hardly be- 
grudge you this privilege. He allows a last, sumptuous repast 
to the culprit he has sentenced in court : could he be less liberal 
to a daughter, whose love he has destroyed in the hour of birth? 
No child, let come what will: I shall give orders to Peter to show 
the Captain into this room.” 

With these words she departed, leaving her daughter in a con- 
dition, more easily imagined than described. The love which 
Hildegard had conceived for Captain Haller, was not the result 
of a day. She had known him for a whole year, and the regard 
which his numerous virtues had won from her at the beginning, 
had rapidly ripened into a warm affection. Of course, this love 
had timidly shrunk to the background of her heart, as long as 
2 


18 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


she thought it unrequited, and perhaps it might finally have died 
for want of nourishment, if the Captain had not declared his 
honorable intentions* But his passionate words had drawn her 
love from its hiding-place and caused it to penetrate her whole 
being. Like the tender plant which was long deprived of heat 
and light, but suddenly struck by the animating sunbeam, it had 
all at once expanded and developed into a vitality and intensity 
amazing to Hildegard herself. But not until her father’s stern 
veto had even she been conscious of the full strength of the af- 
fection she bore the man of her choice. Loth as I am to lose 
myself in metaphors I cannot help comparing her suffering love 
to the sapling which, tossed about by the furious whirlwind, sinks 
its roots more deepl} 7 into the groundto resist the outward force* 
That such struggles however cannot be endured without bitter 
grief, we may well imagine. Hildegard had experienced trials 
before; for what human being can reach maturity without passing 
through them? She had wept over the body of a beloved brother 
whose life had been cut prematurely short by a bullet on the 
battle-field; she had cried over the loss of another whom a wild 
spirit of adventure and an utter disregard of his parents, wishes 
had severed from the home, if not the hearts of the family; but ne- 
ver before had she felt so completely wretched, so totally miserable, 
as during the half hour intervening between her mother’s depar- 
ture and the knocking at the door announcing the dreaded, and 
yet craved for, interview. We know that she had previously 
formed the resolution of respecting her father’s decision; but this 
resolution had been purchased at a fearful expense* A total re- 
nunciation of earthly happiness had been the price. The future 
looked a perfect blank, and life, instead of being a pleasure as 
before, had turned into an irksome duty. Alas ! is it the privilege 
or misfortune of youth to feel so keenly? Would it make our 
youths and maidens happier to know that time has a balm for 
every wound ? Would the blunting of the edge with which af- 
fliction strikes them, compensate them for the less subtle appre- 
ciation of happiness which would follow as a natural conse- 
quence? I doubt it. Youth is the era of illusions. To take the 
veil from their eyes before the time, would be an evil service* 
The young philosopher of Sais sank under the attempt of lifting 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


19 


the curtain from the face of Truth. Her stern aspect crushed 
the unprepared mind. No! Let our young people continue to 
gaze at the world through the crystal of enthusiastic ardor. The 
forest seems greener, the sky bluer, labor lighter, pleasure sweeter. 
The maiden sees a hero in her swain; the swain an angel in his 
maiden. If they suffer a little more than we of greater age, they 
pay after all but cheaply for the intensity with which they are 
capable of tasting pleasure. They may be blind; but it would 
surely be cruelty to cut their cataract and give them vision. 




CHAPTER III. 

In answer to Hildegard’s summons the door was opened, and a 
young man in military dress stepped into the room. He was ra- 
ther tall and well built, the tight uniform showing his symmetri- 
cal form to great advantage. His fair hair and blue eyes pointed 
clearly to the northern home from which he hailed; nor could 
the northern character of the remaining traits be well mistaken. 
His face was serious to sadness, a feature which his recent inter- 
view with Mr. Feller had probably deepened. His motions were 
discrete and measured, yet firm and decisive, and one could not 
well have invented a more perfect model of a soldier, than that 
presented by Captain Haller. If he lacked the dash of the French- 
man, he betrayed in a high degree that complete presence of mind, 
that moral courage, determined to conquer or to die which the 
history of this year has again and again proven to be the vital 
element of military success. 

It is almost superfluous to state that Captain Haller combined 
the most perfect education with these physical and mental advan- 
tages; for to be a scholar and a gentleman and to hold an impor- 
tant command in the Prussian army, are synonyms. It was this 
latter feature which had weighed so heavily in his favor on his 
first acquaintance with Hildegard. Not that her earlier friends 
and companions had not counted amongst them many who were 
his equals in knowledge and accomplishments; it was rather his 


20 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


greater earnestness, his constant consciousness of a high aim and 
noble purpose, in contrast with the greater gayety and thought- 
lessness of the more southern sons of Bavaria that had first at- 
tracted her attention and finally won her affection. As he now 
stepped into the room, the consciousness of his worth, as well as 
the thought of the impending separation, became so keen, as to 
force tears into her eyes. Haller saw them; he also saw her at- 
tempt to rise and welcome him, and, forgetting all the irritation 
which the interview with her father had doubtless coupled with 
his sorrow, he hastened to her side to sooth and comfort her. 

She suffered him to take her hand, and suppressing her emo- 
tions with a violent exertion, said with a faint smile on her lips : 

“I know our fate, Captain; but let me hope, that my father in 
rejecting your petition, did not forget what he owes to himself 
and to you. It would deepen my regret, to learn ” 

“Say nothing further, Hildegard, dear Hildegard — for to call 
you so no earthly power shall hinder me. I know what you allude 
to, and it shows your generosit}^ to forget your own trouble over 
my supposed wrong. However, there is no cause of fear. Your 
father has decidedly, not to say sternly, rejected my supplication; 
but he has at least vouchsafed to me the treatment, which one 
gentleman owes to another.” 

“Thank God for that at least!” 

“I cannot join in your prayer, Hildegard. After denying me a 
boon in which my future happiness is bound up, it would have 
mattered little, if he had added insult to cruelty.” 

“And did he — did he give his reasons for this rejection?” 

“He said enough to make me understand that I am to suffer 
for the real or fancied injuries which my government has inflicted 
on him and his country. I endeavored to plead my cause; but he 
stopped my attempt with snch decision that I desisted, renoun- 
cing all hope of changing his resolution.” 

“You judged him rightly, Sir. I too have dismissed all hopes 
of seeing our future assume a more favorable shape.” 

“And that is all you have to say, Hildegard? When I was sum- 
moned to appear here, I hoped that the daughter would repair 
the injustice of the father.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 21 

“How can I, Captain Haller? You would not counsel disobe- 
dience to father?” 

U I hardly know, what I would do, Hildegard, Only this much 
I know and feel with painful clearness: if your father relent not 
from his cruel obstinacy, my prospects for future happiness are 
gloomy indeed.” 

“Can it comfort you to know that in affliction at least we shall 
be mates? I do not know, whether I act prudently in speaking 
thus; but I feel, as if I ought to soften the untimely rigor of my 
father’s action.” 

“And I appreciate your kindness, Hildegard, and thank you 
warmly for casting a ray of light on the gloom and desolation 
with which the future stares into my face. If anything can com- 
fort me, it is the assurance that, tho’ your father’s veto drive me 
from your presence, I take with me the unchanging affection of 
your heart. Am I justified in construing your words thus favor- 
ably?” 

“Why should I deny it, Sir ? The love which I confessed to 
you yesterday, cannot all at once have become a grievous wrong. 
It is yours, as it was yesterday, and will be yours to-morrow, as it 
is to-day. If I am wrong in this confession, I can give no ex- 
cuse, but that I follow the dictates of the same power which 
planted this affection in my heart.” 

“Hildegard, do not excuse yourself for smiling upon a convict 
who has had the staff broken over his head. Your sweet confes- 
sion shows in a brighter light the jewel, I am to lose; but it arms 
me at the same time with fortitude to bear more bravely a des- 
tiny well nigh unbearable.” 

“And yet I do not know, whether all this is not very wrong. 
I begged your presence to smooth away the bad impression which 
my father’s sternness has no doubt produced, and — to bid you a 
last farewell. Still, I was far from wishing to bind you hopelessly 
to the destiny of an unhappy girl. True, I for my part shall 
not cease to think of you, as long as life lasts; but then, what 
does it matter ? My religion allows me to retreat into some con- 
vent and pray for you. With you the case is different. You till 
a sphere of usefulness; you have duties to your family and to 
your country. It would be a great pity, if a wasted passion 


22 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


should unfit you for the brilliant career that lies before you, and 
I would never forgive myself, if my thoughtless words should 
have the tendency of producing such results.” 

Haller shook his head. 

“I have suffered you to finish, Hildegard,” he said; “because I 
reverence every word that leaves your lips; but if you judge from 
this that I acquiesce in so unfair a compact, you are mistaken. 
You pledge to me your unswerving love and fidelity, and I should 
be at liberty to forsake you at any moment and sacrifice your pre- 
cious memory to reasons of policy? No, Hildegard, I object de- 
cidedly to such an arrangement. I do not want to be surpassed 
in generosity by the lady of my love. Receive therefore my 
vow. . ..” 

“Hermann, forbear ! Sweet as your words sound to my partial 
ear, how can I suffer you to leave me with such a pledge impeding 
all your actions?” 

“Hildegard, listen to me!” he said gravely. “When you told 
me before that you loved me and would continue to love me to 
your dying hour, I did not doubt your word, because I know you + 
You are no.t fickle and giddy, like other ladies, and this unswerv- 
ing steadiness, this even tenor were the main attractions which 
drew me to your feet. Now do you expect me to lack the very 
qualities which I admire so much in you? No, Hildegard, I too 
am slow to form affections ; but what I love once, I love forever. 
Never shall I feel for other maiden what I feel for you: why then 
should you deny me the sweet consolation that, in spite of }^our 
father’s veto, our hearts will continue to beat in unison? Hilde- 
gard, dear Hildegard, allow me the comfort to part from you as 
one with whom I shall sooner or later be reunited; as one whom 
I may truly call my own, tho’ severed by distance, prejudice and 
hatred.” 

Again he seized her hand and looked into her face with a 
pleading earnestness difficult to resist. Alas ! Hildegard was but 
too well inclined to listen to such tempting conjurations. If, in 
parting, they pledged their troth to one another, their separation 
would lose its bitterest sting, and rather increase, than lessen, 
their affection, since Hope, with unconquerable vitality, would 
hold out the prospect of a reunion in the distant future. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


23 


Haller saw that she wavered, and, like a good soldier, he pushed 
his attack, until she surrendered at discretion. Need we wonder 
that a fervent embrace sealed a compact closed in the face of 
such serious obstacles? Ah! she rested so securely in his strong 
arms that she could hardly realize the rapid flight of time and 
shrank back in surprise and alarm, when a gentle tap at the door 
reminded them of the necessity of a final parting. 

“Hildegard! Farewell!” 

“Yours for ever, Hermann !” 

A parting kiss and the door closed upon a form which it might 
be her fate never to see again. She returned to the sofa, and, sink- 
ing into its cushions, delivered herself to a train of thoughts in 
which the elements of woe and bliss were strangely mixed. But 
unwilling to pry more deeply into the mysterious secrets of a 
virgin soul, we leave Hildegard and accompany Haller who des- 
cended the stairs in no enviable mood. True, he took with him 
the assurance of a love which to him was the embodiment of 
felicity; but on the other hand he could hardly conceal from him- 
self the fact that the chances of ever . approaching Hildegard 
again, much more possessing her, were slim indeed. His feelings 
therefore were a mixture of sweet and bitter in which the worm- 
wood by far predominated. To meet his comrades in such a 
mood, and listen to their light and gay remarks, w’as intolerable; 
to seek the solitude of his lodgings on the other hand, was not 
prospective of any more desirable results* So Haller chose the 
expedient of loitering through the more quiet streets and boule- 
vards of the city. These places breathed that tranquil serenity 
which characterizes the inhabitants of Munich, and promised to 
exercise a soothing influence upon the agitated mind of our friend. 
He wandered up and down the shady avenues , taking as little no- 
tice of the flying moments as of his surroundings, until suddenly 
a familiar voice star tledhim from his reveries. Looking up he 
recognized one of the attaches of the Prussian embassy, with 
whom he was <on rather friendly terms. 

“What is the matter Sir Captain ?” the new-comer said with a 
laughing voice, slipping his arm into that of Haller. “I have 
watched your movements for the last five minutes, but have failed 
to discover what you are about. You walk up and down, look- 


24 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ing neither right nor left, and cut a face, as if the whole world 
depended on the result of your deliberations. May a person in- 
quire the subject of your study?” 

“No, he may not,” replied the Captain with a forced laugh. “I 
fear, my brown studies would neither entertain nor instruct yom 
Let me rather ask what takes you so early from the embassy?” 

44 Early , my friend?” the other asked wonderingly. “What 
time do you think it is? Don’t you see that the sun is ready to 
retire? I am on my way to our hotel, and if you expect to get- 
your supper, you had better keep me company; for we fellows de- 
velop a monstrous appetite you know.” 

“I really don’t feel like eating.” 

“Ah! lari-fari! You say that with a mien, as if you meant to 
play Werther to-night. If you’ll go with me, I shall tell you 
some spicy news en passant.” 

“Well, let us hear then. I surrender at discretion.” 

“But perhaps my news are news no longer. In fact they were 
in this afternoon’s issue.” 

“I have not seen a paper all day.” 

“Then ’tis all right. A dispatch from Paris says that the 
Spanish Ministry offered the nomination for the throne to Prince 
Leopold of Hohenzollern.” 

“Well, what of it?” 

“What of it? You take it decidedly cool. I said they offered 
the nomination for the crown to a prince of our royal family.” 

“That concerns Prince Leopold; but I fail to see how it will af- 
fect us .” 

“It may, my good friend, it may. The papers look at this as an 
intrigue of Bismark and Prim, gotten up for the purpose of re- 
ducing the influence of France.” 

“Well, the world would be none the worse for such a reduction.” 

“So say you\ but the French Government thinks differently, iff 
we are to judge ffrom the dispatches wdiich fly fast and thick be- 
tween Paris and Berlin.” 

“Ok! it is quite natural that the French Government should 
seize upon such an opportunity to fire some of its favorite puff- 
guns. So they used their heavy calibre, did they?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


25 


“Yes indeed! They insist upon King William’s forbidding 
Leopold to accept the nomination.” 

“And the king?” 

“Replies, that he gave no order to accept, and can consequently 
give no order to refuse.” 

“Good ! They may chew away at that tough morsel. By the 
time it is digested, the whole affair will have blown over.” 

“So you expect no serious complications?” 

“I do not. It strikes me, Napoleon has too much to do at home 
just now to desire a foreign complication.’ ’ 

“Might he not wish for such a one to get rid of his troubles at 
home?” 

“Possibly, but not likely. A war with Germany would be his 
ruin. He’ll count the cost, before he takes such a risky step, de- 
pend upon it.” 

“Perhaps he counts upon the neutrality or even assistance of 
our southern friends here.” 

“If so, he has made the bill without the host. I think better 
of the Southern Germans, than to believe them capable of treason.” 

“Treason is an ugly word. The seceders here would call it 
patriotism.” 

“The ultra-mountains or seceders, as you call them, are not the 
nation. Let any one propose such a measure to the people, and 
they’ll string him up, as sure as you live. I for one, would not 
like to run the risk at any rate.” 

“It might be hazardous. But here is the hotel. Let us enter 
and embrace for the present your view of the question. A troub- 
led mind affects the appetite. Permit me to toast you this glass 
with the motto : May it soon blow over!” 

— 

CHAPTER IV. 

But it did not blow over ! True, impartial minds saw no cause 
for war and considered the generous withdrawal of Prince Leo- 
pold a sure guarantee of peace. But peace did not suit the men 
who ruled over France; in truth it did not suit the nation either. 


26 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


They had always been taught to regard themselves the great na- 
tion par excellence , and military glory their special inheritance. 
The Prussian successes of 1866 had made them nervous; they 
had always considered the victory of Sadowa an encroachment 
on their province. No nation but theirs had a right to defeat an 
adversary so thoroughly; none but theirs the privilege of shaping 
the destiny of Europe. It was presumptuous in these northern 
barbarians to raise their heads the way they did ! They must be 
taught their places, if need be, by means of lead and powder. 
Indeed, the attempt would have been made before, if the needle- 
gun had not unfortunately assumed the shape of an ominous in- 
terrogation-mark and asked the question: Can you do it? The 
introduction of the chassepot was the answer. If they could not 
do it before, they thought themselves able to do it now . They 
burned to try it at all events, and therefore welcomed the shal- 
lowest pretence, provided it answered the purpose. They deman- 
ded that Prince Leopold should decline the nomination, and the 
prince, unwilling to furnish them a subterfuge, withdrew from 
the portentious arena. The world was satisfied and the moder- 
ate portion of the French press accepted the situation. “The 
Hohenzollern will not rule in Spain,” said the Constitutionnel. 
“It is all we asked and with pride we receive this peaceful solu- 
tion of the question.” But the Constitutionnel w r as not inspired. 
It was not the intention of the French Government to be recon- 
ciled. They bent the bow w r ith the determination of breaking it. 
“ Brusquez le roi! Snub the king!” was Napoleon’s order to 
Benedetti; an order which history will record as an instance of 
unexampled insolence in diplomatic intercourse. Still it answered 
the purpose, for it inaugurated the war. The old king showed 
himself equal to the emergency ; he turned his back upon French 
insolence, and when he entered his capital, he received an ovation 
unparalelled in history; an ovation which sent its echoes to the 
remotest borders of Germany. All parts of the Fatherland ri- 
valled in their expressions of patriotism, and if Napoleon had 
really counted on the actual, or at least moral, support of South- 
ern Germany, his calculations showed the first one of the many 
fatal errors, which, in the course of a few months, reduced him 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


27 


from a mighty sovereign to an object of pity abroad and of exe- 
cration at home. 

Bavaria was foremost in the ranks of the German tribes who 
raised their voice and cast in their weight for the support of the 
national cause. The particularistic elements which had prevailed 
only a few short weeks ago, disappeared from sight, and the most 
fiery patriotism shone forth in its full strength and splendor. A 
few croakers at first tried to stem the tide; but the cry : “To the 
gallows with them !” soon hushed their voices, and drove them to 
their obscure lurking-places. The young king, open to noble im- 
pulses, yielded to the pressure of his people, and telegraphed to 
Berlin : You may rely on Bavaria to the last drop of her children’s 
blood. His popularity rose in accordance, and youth and age 
pressed around him to lay down upon the altar of the nation — 
the former its arms, the latter its gold. The great problem of 
the nation, so warmly longed for, so vainly aimed at; the dream 
of patriots and poets through centuries of shame and hnmiliation: 
German Unity had all at once become an accomplished fact. 
What the most zealous efforts of German statesmen had failed to 
produce, the taunting challenge of an over-bearing neighbor had 
brought about, as if through magic, and German unity stood 
there, like a gigantic statue cast in solid iron, frowning angrily 
upon the gathering hosts of Gaul. 

Those who visited South-Germany during the weeks of July, 
would certainly not have recognized the Southern Germany of 
1866. Instead of the former gloom and consternation, they wit- 
nessed enthusiasm and confidence of victory. Instead of the 
former hesitation, envy and dissention, they now saw the greatest 
harmony, promptness and decision. On the fourth of July the 
news of Leopold’s nomination had first flashed over the wires, 
and on the 16th, the 17th and 18th, the ministries of Bavaria, 
Baden and Wurtemberg, had already issued their decrees to mob- 
ilize the army. Nor did these decrees remain dead letters ! So 
rapidly were the troops drawn together and forwarded to the 
frontier that, when Frederic William, the Crown-Prince of Prussia 
and Commander of the southern contingent, arrived at Munich 
on the 27th, his royal host could with pride and satisfaction point 
to the splendid army standing ready in the Palatinate, waiting 


28 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


eagerly for their royal leader and panting with impatience to be 
led against the common enemy. 

And such a reception as was given to the royal guest at every 
station ! the enthusiasm of the masses growing with every new 
step towards the capital. Were these really the same people who, 
a few months ago, cursed the very name of Prussia? Their 
guest was one of the principal agents who, in 1866, turned the 
scale of victory in favor of the Prussians, and yet they receive 
him to-day like the harbinger of a new Gospel, the deliverer from 
a long and galling thraldom. 

The 27th of July 1870 will be remembered in Munich, as long 
as one stone stands upon another. The morning set in auspici- 
ously and the sun shone brightly upon the gay display of the 
thousands of flags which had been hoisted in honor of the ex- 
pected guest. They waved from all the steeples, from the city- 
hall and the Charles-gate, through which he was to enter. In 
front of the depot two gigantic poles bore in happy unison the 
banners of the North-German Bund and Bavaria, a new, but 
highly propitious spectacle. 

The depot w^as literally covered with green. Wreaths, garlands 
and festoons crept through each other m endless variations, and, 
with the evergreens and orange-trees in tubs, lent the place a 
truly fantastic appearance. A brilliant assembly had gathered 
to welcome the royal guest. All the princes of the house of 
Wittelsbach, (the reigning family,) the Secretaries of State, the 
chiefs of staff, the entire councils of the city, stood in waiting to 
offer Frederic William the hospitality of the city. 

A company of infantry and a squadron of cuirassiers with ban- 
ners and music were posted as the guard of honor. 

At last the shrill whistle of the locomotive announced the ar- 
rival of the train and sent a thrill through the waiting masses. 
A few minutes later a carriage wflth six made its appearance be- 
fore the portals of the depot, escorted by the shining cuirassiers 
and occupied by the Crown-prince in the uniform of a Prussian 
general, the King of Bavaria and Prince Otto in the uniform of 
the Chevaux-legers. At this sight a never-ending shout rose from 
the inspired crowd and accompanied the princes to the ro}^al 
palace. The handsome countenance and affable bearing of Fred- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


29 


t 

eric William won every heart, and the multitude was sorry to 
see him disappear behind the portals of the palace, where he 
sought the much-needed rest. 

In the evening, “Wallenstein’s Camp” was to be performed at 
the Royal Opera House ; but appropriate as this piece of Schiller 
seemed for the occasion, it was not the merits of the play which 
drew Munich’s citizens into the house that night and filled every 
seat, yes even the aisles and corridors of the immense building 
to over-flowing* It was understood that the cherished guest was 
to appear in the royal box, and the eyes of the audience were 
not, as usual, centred on the curtain, but where the distinguished 
company was momentarily expected. When at length the doors 
of the box opened, a murmur ran through the assembly like the 
rustling of the wind in the leaves of the forest; and when King 
Ludwig led forward his guest and presented him to the audience 
— retiring himself modestly to the background — the house broke 
forth into such thundering applause that the strong building 
shook to its base. The orchestra joined in the ovation with a 
soul-stirring flourish, and shouts and flourishes blended and swel- 
led in never-ending reverberations to the dome above. In vain 
the Crown prince bows repeatedly in acknowledgement of the en- 
thusiastic reception. When he retires, the renewed clamor com- 
pels him to appear a second time at the hand of Ludwig. Such 
homage is not the result of mere ceremony; it is the effluence of 
the newl} r -aroused national spirit. Noble and worthy as the hon- 
ored guest may be, this tribute is not so much offered to the in- 
dividual, the prospective ruler of a powerful nation, as to the 
national standard-bearer, the center around which a people in- 
toxicated with enthusiasm, can rally. 

Gradually the tumult abates ; but even the magic sounds of 
Beethoven ’s overture to Egmont are incapable of withdrawing 
the eyes of the audience from the royal box, until suddenly the 
music ceases, the curtain rises and an actor chains the attention 
by a prologue composed for the occasion. With masterly art, 
but a deeply moved voice, he alludes to the dreadful woe, whieh 
this unprovoked w*ar is sure to bring over the country; but he also 
admonishes his hearers to seek consolation in the new-born unity 
of the Fatherland. “A royal word” he says, “penetrated the 


30 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


• 

masses; it flashed northward and dispelled before its brightness 
every doubt and uncertainty. ‘Let come what may !’ our king 
exclaimed ; ‘I shall keep faith with my confederate The coun- 
try is united now: who can conquer it? Before the trumpet 
sounds the charge on the Rhine, we have already won the great- 
est victory 'over ourselves. The old confederation is renewed, 
and a roy^al pair — the Prussian Eagle and the Bavarian Lion — 
leads our hosts into the fight. This lofty constellation will light 
our armies through the night of conflict, and lead it irresistibly 
to another great battle of deliverance. Hail! thrice hail to the 
noble princes who forgot the past over their duty, and gave an 
example of ancient German faith!” 

The audience had followed the address with breathless sus- 
pense ; but when the orator called upon them to join him in a 
treble cheer, the crowd rose like a man and gave it with a 
thoroughness, before which even the former manifestations sank 
into insignificance. Strong men wept like children; bitter ene- 
mies rushed into each other’s arms, and sober dignitaries tottered 
about, as if under the influence of sweet wine. 

And what has meanwhile become of the persons for whom I 
tried to win the goodwill of the reader in the opening chapters? 
We lost sight of them in the grand upheaving of the nation; but 
for this oversight we may well be pardoned. Will you blame the 
man who views from the rocky coast the furious tumult of the 
stormy ocean, and loses sight of the paltry cork he was expected 
to watch? I would not speak disparagingly of the persons whose 
fate I mean to portray in this volume ; but the worthiest man, the 
fairest damsel sink into insignificance, when at rare intervals 
nations get into commotion and rise to such majestic grandeur, 
that the same brush cannot possibty paint their colossal doings, 
and the feeble, tlio’ noble efforts of the individual. Not that I 
consider my^self competent to grapple successfully with such a gi- 
gantic problem; on the contrary, I am fully sensible of my inability 
to do it justice, and hasten therefore to leave the dangerous field 
and resume the more modest task of tracing the development of 
individual life. Those who are inclined to find fault with the 
above aberration, are hardly capable of feeling the intoxication 
which seized a member of the great German family, even after an 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


31 


expatriation of nearly twenty years, when the telegraph announ- 
ced the glorious resurrection of the Fatherland . If I have 
failed to do their mighty uprising justice, I have had at least the 
satisfaction of shouting with the shouters, and of revelling with 
the revellers. Henceforth, dear reader, I shall endeavor to keep 
sober; but if a ray of the enthusiasm which animates my breth- 
ren across the ocean, should color the following pages with a hue 
too glaring in your estimation, excuse a partiality for whose ab- 
sence you would surely blame yourselves if in my place. 

The great excitement with which the weeks following the sep 
aration of Haller and Hildegard were fraught, had been ben- 
eficial to both and in a measure deadened the grief to which oth- 
erwise they would have fallen a prey. The Captain had been en- 
gaged not only by the deep interest with which he followed the 
development of events; but also by the numerous duties which 
taxed his mental as well as his physical qualities. At first Prussia 
had looked upon Bavaria with pardonable suspicion. On former 
occasions the latter had frequently cast her lot with the national 
enemy, and the enthusiasm with which she this time embraced 
the common cause, was therefore as surprising as agreable. When 
at length every doubt was removed and the work of mobilizing 
went bravely on, the services of Captain Haller and his fellow 
officers became highly important to their government. They had 
been with the Bavarian troops for quite a length of time ; they 
knew their morale , their strong and weak points, and through no 
other agency could the work of preparation be so effectually 
pushed on. 

That under these circumstances Captain Haller had rather 
busy times, we may well imagine. He had to be up early and 
late and with the mustering and equipping, the equipping and 
dispatching of troops; with the frequent visits at the Prussian 
embassy and the Bavarian war-office, Haller found but little time 
to deliver himself to grief and despondency. If he thought of 
Hildegard, he kept her memory well enclosed in his bosom, never 
suffering her name to pass his lips. Now and then his duty would 
lead him past her home, and on such occasions he was some- 
times fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of features which, in 
his estimation, embodied all the beauty on earth. 


32 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


And Hildegard? She too had been powerfully moved by the 
signs of the times. During her childhood she had undoubtedly 
listened to many a lecture of both her father and uncle on the du- 
ties of a loyal Bavarian; but her mind was not such as to be eas- 
ily influenced by mere preaching or example. True, before her 
acquaintance with Captain Haller she had in a measure shared 
the feelings of animosity, which nearly every Bavarian bore the 
Prussians after the struggle of 1866. She too had suffered its 
evil consequences in the death of a beloved brother; but, in spite 
of this, her mind was too calm, her judgment too clear, to allow 
this animosity to assume the character of fanatical hatred. She 
had several times indulged thoughts of her own concerning the 
condition of Germany, and now, when Captain Haller ventured 
upon this risky field and in their interviews argued German po- 
licy from a higher s band-point than her advisers had ever before 
occupied, it fell from her eyes like scales, and her mind rose to 
that elevation on which it became capable of appreciatin gthe 
great national resurrection. 

The rest of the family was split into two different factions. 
While Mrs. Feller sided with Hildegard, as far as the moderation 
of greater age would permit, Mr. Feller and Joseph, who had 
lately become a very zealous visitor, formed the opposition. This 
word however hardly conveys the true idea, since the ladies stu- 
diously avoided a controversy on this delicate question. On it, 
the love of Hildegard had lately wrecked, and she knew her 
father too well to meet him on a field, where stubbornness and 
hatred prevented him from viewing the question in its true light, 
Mrs. Feller understood her daughter and adopted her tactics with 
a previous express agreement. So, if the brothers were dissatis- 
fied with the conduct of the ladies, they could at most reproach 
them with indifference, not opposition. This indifference how- 
ever moved Joseph to quite an immoderate wrath. He was alto- 
gether the most inveterate enemy of the patriotic movement, and 
what drew forth the mere displeasure of the councillor, was sure 
to receive the anathema of the divine. He constantly counselled 
open resistance to the measures of the national party and ven- 
tured even to express these sentiments to one of the crowds 
which the excitement of the times collected daily at a dozen dif- 


Scenes before the Royal Palace after the reception of the declaration of War. 









THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


33 


ferent pW e s, The crowd, however, had thought proper to adopt 
a policv^ nuc i 1 i ess tolerant than that pursued by his niece, and 
made/jJn onset on his Reverence, with such a total disregard for 
his hlothes as well as his clerical dignit} 7 , that he had reached his 
^/Other’s house in a very undignified condition. Since that mo- 
ment his remonstrances had become less noisy, but much more 
bitter, and he treated his friends to his tirades to such an extent, 
that even Ignatz became occasional!} 7 impatient at his impracti- 
cal suggestions, and merely avoided a controversy with his 
brother by adopting his daughter’s policy of silence. 

But how did the great events of the day affect himself? Was 
he totally callous to the call upon everything that is high, good 
and noble in human nature? For his own and our credit, we 
hope not. The priest may be more readily pardoned. He has 
renounced the world and devoted himself exclusively to the ag- 
grandisement of his church. If he meddles with the world at 
all, it is with the view of furthering the church; if he judges the 
interest of his church and that of the old regime inseparably con- 
nected, we may excuse him for a policy which is in harmony with 
his views. The councilor, however, has) married. He is a hus- 
band, a father, a judge, an active member of the community 
which in its largest sense represents the Fatherland. If he fails 
to comprehend this word; if he fails to respond to the call which 
summons the citizens to its support, he has a narrow mind, a 
callous heart which subject him justly to our severest criticism. 
But let us not judge too quickly. If as yet he refuses to listen 
to the voice of honor and duty, we need not imagine that he is 
totally deaf to their call. Habit and opinions always resist in- 
novations, no matter how good. Mr. Feller may still profess his 
old sentiments, long after he has inwardly acknowledged their in- 
correctness. He may even do this without subjecting himself to 
the charge of open falsehood; for we often manage to blind our- 
selves against our own convictions, especially when they are at 
variance with our inclinations. 

Altogether the household was out of tune, which is no wonder 
when we consider that two discords had recently jarred its har- 
mony. Hildegard had evidently lost her spirits. She did not la- 
ment or complain ; but this silent accusation was perhaps more 
3 


34 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

aggravating to Feller’s uneasy conscience, than the i.oudest la- 
mentations would have been. It made him nervous, beC; ause ^ ie 
found it difficult to maintain a position which was not asS^I^ffi 
This consciousness made him morose, and if we add to this 
lemma the uncomfortable relation to his brother, his king and h\ ls 
country, we need not wonder that during the above period h e 
came nearer to the description of a domestic t 3 rrant than ever be- 
fore. Of this too he was aware, and very frequently he was an- 
gry with himself for being angry with others. Thus it is always. 
“That is the curse of evil deeds,” Goethe says in his Faust; “that, 
self-creative, they beget the evil.” 

One morning, as he was sitting at his desk, apparently examin- 
ing some documents which had been subjected to his decision, 
but in realit}^ pondering over the unhappy turn which his affairs 
and in his opinion at least, the affairs of his country had taken, 
a servant entered and handed him a letter. Feller recognized the 
handwriting of Bray, the Secretary of State, and wondered what 
that dignitary could have to say to him. His astonishment in- 
creased, when the note informed him that His Majesty would like 
to have the pleasure of seeing the councilor privately at his 
room at 11 o’clock A. M. 

What could it mean? What did the king want of him? The 
name of the minister warranted the belief that the interview 
would not be a purety private one. Matters of State would pro 
bably be touched upon, and the councilor anticipated in his 
mind the momentous moment, when he would be called up pub- 
licly to define his position in the impending struggle. Public 
opinion is a fearful task-master. It, takes greater courage to 
withstand its verdict than to storm a battery. Public opinion 
was decidedly on the side of the king, and could he possibly re- 
concile it with his principles 

He was still brooding over the solution of this question, when, 
at the appointed time, the chamberlain threw open the door of 
the royal cabinet, and admitted him into the presence of the 
king. 

Ludwig was not alone. He sat with his minister at a round 
table which was densely covered with letters, maps and all kinds 
of documents. When the councilor’s name was announced, the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


35 


king looked up and on recognizing the new-comer, arose to meet 
him. Never before liad he been so affable. He offered the coun- 
cilor his hand, and greeted him with a pleasant smile and a 
warm “good morning.’ * 

Feller answered with a low bow. 

“Your Majestj r has ordered my presence. ...” he began. In- 
wardly he said to himself: “he surely wants to catch me.” He 
forgot, however, that the king was that way to eveiybody else. A 
nimbus of gentleness, of genuine urbanity seemed to have sur- 
rounded him ever since his memorable resolution to adhere to the 
cause of Germany. 

“Not ordered, Sir Councilor,” he said, smilingly. “I merely 
requested your presence, because I would ask you a fa vor. Nor 
do I wish you to consider this request obligatory, although I do 
not hesitate to confess that a compliance would greatly please 
me.” 

“Your Majesty overwhelms me with kindness,” he stammered. 
“May I ask the nature of the service I am able to render } r our 
Majesty?” 

“Of course, Sir Councilor. Bray and I have received -letters 
from the Palatinate, stating that things are in great confusion 
there, on account of the concentration of so many armies. Now 
I have always admired your administrative talents,, and have no 
doubt that 3^011 would soon create order out of the chaos. What 
do 3^ou think of this? Will 3^011 help us in this emergency, arid 
assist us in governing our fair province on the Rhine?” , 

“I govern the Palatinate!” exclaimed Feller with so much un- 
disguised astonishment that it brought a smile to the face of the 
king. “I am afraid that your Majesty overrates my ability for 
such an important place.’’ 

“Trust me for that, Sir Councilor. The question is: are you 
willing to grant our request, and help us with your knowledge 
and experience in this hour of trial?” 

“But the responsibility? Supposing I fail to secure your Ma- 
jesty’s approbation?”, t \ ^ 

“Trust me for that, I say . Bray and I have, not selected. y<pu 
at random. We- know 3^011 to be able; but we would not send you 
a- hist 3 r our will. An unwilling servant is no servant at all. In 


36 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


this great crisis of our country there must be no hesitation, no 
half measure. Either for us! or against us! must be the motto 
of all we come in contact with. Say, are you ready to adopt the 
former ?” 

“How could I do otherwise, in the face of so much kindness?” 

“Nay, nay! it is your country, not me, I would wai^t you to 
serve. Only if you are ready, and determined to use the power 
of your office for the good of your country in good and bad 
luck, are we ready to give you your commission, and receive into 
our hand your vow of fealty.” 

“Be it then as your Majesty says !” replied Feller, deeply moved 
by the words of the king. “You honor me highly by this un- 
looked for trust; and so help me God! you shall not be disap- 
pointed in your expectations. Send me, when and where you 
will, you will always find me a true and faithful servant.” 

“Spoken like a true patriot!” said the king, again pressing the 
hand of the councilor. “Your commission is made out and 
signed; for, to tell you the honest truth, I expected no thing 
less from an honorable man like you. How soon can you.be 
ready to depart?” 

u As soon as }’our Majesty commands.” 

“To-day, then?” 

“To-da}% if needs be.” 

“It needs indeed; but we might arouse the indignation of your 
ladies by hurrying you off too quickly. They will most likely 
want to accompany you, and we therefore give you a respite of 
twenty-four hours.” 

“And my instructions ?” 

“You will find a few hints in this paper. As to the rest we 
give you carte blanche .” 

The counsellor took his leave and reached the house as in a 
dream. Was it really true? Had he, an avowed opponent of 
the war-party, been actually intrusted with one of the most im- 
portant offices of the country? He could hardly believe it; but 
whde he despaired of accounting for this sudden freak of for- 
tune, he felt that it would never do to disappoint the confidence 
the king had placed in his ability and integrity. He therefore 
repeated to himself the vow he had deposited with the king, and 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


37 


thus in a short hour a bitter enemy of German Unity had been 
converted into a supporter. 

When Captain Haller, on the next morning, marched the last 
troops of his division to the depot, he was surprised to see the 
shutters of Feller’s mansion closed. 

Had the family departed? And if so, whither had it gone? 

These questions Captain Haller asked him self with an anxious 
mind. 

On the same evening he too was whirled towards the spot, where 
the furies of war were read} r to break loose with unparalleled fe- 
rocity. Let us hasten to witness the beginning of the fearful 
struggle ! 




CHAPTER V. 

The French line leaves the Rhine near the fortified town of 
Lautersburg, and runs nearly due west along the French towns 
of Weissenburg and Bitch, and the Prussian town of Saarbrucken* 
Down to Morsbach it separates France from the Palatinate or 
Rhenish Bavaria ; after that from Prussia until it strikes the ter- 
ritory of Luxembourg in the neighborhood of Thionville. North 
and south of this line a beautiful country meets the eye of the 
visitor. Picturesque mountains, lovely villages and winding 
streams relieve each other in endless variety, and form views un- 
surpassed in loveliness and grandeur. But that region is not 
merely beautiful; it is also rich and densely populated, and also 
teems with the richest gifts of a bounteous Providence. The 
lowlands produce every kind of cereals in the greatest abundance. 
Fruit of every description is so plentiful as to be a drug in the 
market. Even the hill-sides have been subservient to the purpo- 
ses of man, for endless vineyards, productive of the choicest 
wine, and hop-gardens creep up every slope which catches the 
southern sunbeam. Where the declivities are by nature too 
steep, human industry has created artificial terraces, sometimes 
by building walls, sometimes by blasting away the hindering rocks* 
In both instances, the fertile soil was carried up by toiling labor- 


38 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


\ 

ers, a process almost incomprehensible to the American mmd, 
but richly productive, where the population is dense and the land 
scarce, and where, moreover, such labor will be paid by a vintage 
yielding a highly superior beverage. 

Alsatia resembles in character somewhat the western portion 
of Pennsylvania, excepting however the mineral wealth of the 
latter. Coal is wanting in the bowels of her mountains, and the 
French therefore looked with jealousy upon Rhenish Prussia, where 
an inferior coal is found in great abundance. But even without 
this feature Alsatia is such a rich jewel in the crown of France, 
that she watches it with zealous care — doubly zealous perhaps, 
because it was originally a stolen one. So well was she pleased 
with it, that she pounced upon a shallow pretext, to annex the 
neighboring German provinces. For this purpose her armies 
had been marshalled and stationed near the border to enter the 
coveted territory as soon as the needful preparations were com- 
pleted. But there the trouble came in. The reckless, hasty 
manner in which the French had plunged into this war, mani- 
fested itself in every branch of the service. Not only did the 
numbers fall short of the paper-estimates ; but the commissariat, 
the sanitary department, the train : everything was in a miserable 
condition and caused fatal delays which for a wdiile were made 
plausible to the world on the plea of the emperor’s bad health, 
but the true cause of which was destined to leak out in a fearful 
manner at an early date. 

The center of the French army rested on Forbach under Gen- 
eral Frossart; the left wing stood at Thionville under Ladmir- 
ault; the right at Weissenburg under McMahon. With the latter 
we shall soon come in nearer contact and to him therefore we 
must direct our special attention. 

His head-quarters were near Froschweiler, a village on the 
heights behind the town of Woerth, about fifteen miles south- 
west of Weissenburg. He had taken up his abode in the villa of 
Monsieur Dupre, Imperial Collector for Northern Alsatia. The 
villa stood a rifle shot from the village, shaded and protected by 
the seam of a large forest, which stretches away for miles in a 
north-western direction. The villa and its surroundings spoke 
of the wealth, if not the taste of the owner. In it the duke of 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 39 

Magenta had every reason to feel comfortable, for besides the 
splendor which surrounded him, and of which he had always 
shown himself to be very fond, he could indulge in another pen- 
chant of his, namely, the passion for handsome women. The 
discipline of the French army was not so strict, as to present the 
wives of many officers and also female adventurers of more than 
doubtful character to accompany the army, and on this occasion 
the fair ones had not failed to benefit by this indulgence, and 
quartered themselves in the spacious villa of Monsieur Dupre as 
well as the tavern, the parsonage and private dwellings of Frosch- 
weiler. 

Monsieur Dupre was a widower and father of a grown-up son 
who went under the brilliant name of Alcibiades, without how- 
ever possessing those alluring qualities which made his name- 
sake, the ancient Athenian, so irresistible. His father, however, 
thought him a very hopeful young man, in which opinion Alic. 
biades most heartily concurred, although it was shared by no- 
body else. To judge from the scanty supply of coarse sandy 
hair, which Monsieur Dupre the younger raised on his head, the 
soil underneath was not very fertile. His whiskers on the other 
hand were dense and luxuriant, and mischievous acquaintances 
professed to account for this from the fact that Alcibiades used 
his jaws much more frequently than his brains. The features of 
the young man were commonplace, and would have left a casual 
observer indifferent, if a sly expression of the eye and a trait of 
coarse sensuality around the mouth had not awakened a slight 
distrust. M. Dupre the elder, however, was rich and his son there- 
fore passed everywhere for “a good fellow.” Some of those who 
secretly laughed at Alcibiades’ pretensions to wit, beauty and amia- 
bility, were insincere enough to strengthen them by their adula- 
tions, because these adulations secu: ^ them good lodgings, good 
dinners and good times at the hospitable villa of the father gen- 
erally. 

The household did not suffer much by Monsieur Dupre’s being 
a widower ; for it was presided over by an old spinster-sister of 
his who prided herself on uniting in her person the virtues of a 
good housekeeper and the manners of the imperial court. The 
family seemed to have a passion for classic names, for besides 


40 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Monsieur Aleibiades and Monsieur Dupro, the elder, who passed 
by the name of Hercules, Mademoiselle Dupre had, on being 
christened, received the ambiguous name of Aspasia. 

In justice to the worthy damsel in question, we must admit 
that her readings had never been extensive enough to make her 
familiar with the fact, that her namesake, the famous friend of 
Pericles, did not number chastity amongst her most prominent vir~ 
tues. But even if she had known it, we could not well blame her 
for a selection in which she had had no voice. If she was without 
'the charms of the ancient Aspasia, she surely was without her 
vices. Her character was spotless, and sundry little weaknesses 
(in her opinion the Dupres in general, and her own per- 
son in particular, occupied the first rank) did not prevent her 
from filling her position to the satisfaction of all concerned. 

Besides the parties described, two more persons belonged to the 
family. They went by the names of Victor and Pauline Delmont 
and were the children of Dupre’s sister. They were orphans, and 
wards under the tutelage of their uncle in whose house they had 
found a home ever since the death of their parents. Victor had 
embraced the military profession, and advanced to the rank o^ 
first lieutenant. He was a Frenchman in the true sense of the 
word; that is, he possessed the virtues as well as the faults of the 
“ great nation .” He had received an education, but acquired no 
erudition. He knew multa, but not multum\ many things, but 
not much, as the Latins had it. He had read more than he had 
studied; committed more than he had digested. He had a good 
deal of wit; but comparatively little common sense. His patriot- 
ism was only surpassed by his national pride; his sense of honor 
bjr his touchiness. He showed more enthusiasm than energy; 
more ardor than perseverance. In appearance he was handsome, 
and his education had made the most of these physi cal advan_ 
tages. He had been taught to walk, ride and dance to perfection, 
and the court- circles of Paris had left so clear an impress on his 
manners, that he was received with open arms, whereever he 
went. The ladies especially were unanimous in pronouncing him 
‘excellent company,” and as he possessed a considerable stock of 
gallantry, he managed to devote to the service of the fair sex the 
hours which he could conveniently spare from the service of his 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


41 


country. The recent call to arms had opened visions ofgloryjto the 
young lieutenant; it had also given him an opportunity to pa} r a 
flying visit to his uncle’s villa, and boast to the ladies, what mir- 
acles of bravery he was determined to perform. In his aunt he 
found a willing listener, but his sister Pauline was too much mat- 
ter-of-fact, to enjoy descriptions which, tlio’ graphic, had too 
much of the air-castle-nature to suit her practical mind. She 
would often listen with grave attention, and then all at once in- 
terrupt the speaker with a remark, seemingly so innocent, and 
yet so poignant, that it had the same effect on him, as the wind- 
mills on Don Quixote, i. e. to throw him out of the saddle. 

But here we talk about Miss Delrnont, without a previous intro- 
duction to the reader. Let us quickly repair our error. 

Miss Pauline was a handsome brunette, anfl numbered nine- 
teen years. If I did not fear to become trite, I would say, that 
if her brother represented the true Frenchman, she represented 
the true Frenchwoman. It would be true at least; nor do I in 
either case attach a reproach to the epithet. We all have our 
faults, nations as well as individuals, and the positive vice of one 
may be a negative virtue in another. If it is true that the French- 
man can learn from the German, it is no less true that, in many 
things, the German can with advantage imitate the Frenchman. 

We want the reader, then, to understand that Mademoiselle 
Pauline was a really charming woman. If her aunt was the 
regulating spirit of the household, she could in truth be called 
the animating, beautifying one. Her light, lithe figure glided so 
buoj T antly, so noiselessly over the ground, that one had to look 
sharply to ascertain whether she owed her progress to her feet 
or some other agency. Wherever she went she was the center of 
attraction, much to the regret of Dupre the elder whose favorite 
hobby was a match between his son and his niece, and of Dupre 
the younger, whose thoughts were of a more selfish character, 
without differing in substance. Father and son were anxious to 
secure this fair price, not so much on account of its mental qual- 
ities, but because Miss Delrnont was the fortunate proprietress of 
a fortune not much inferior to that of the Dupres. It was quite 
acceptable that Pauline was handsome ; that she had received an 
education, qualifying her for the highest circles; that she could 


42 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


talk, sing* and play well; but much more acceptable were her 
bank- stocks, her broad acres which lay so conveniently to their 
own that the desire of an annexation sprang up almost sponta- 
neously. It is possible that Alcibiades may have had another in- 
ducement to seek her hand ; it is possible that he may have felt 
a strong sensual desire to become the lord and master of so many 
charms; but more than this he could hardly claim. We do not ap- 
preciate what we do not comprehend, and so we may safely assert 
that Pa.uline’s numerous mental gifts and qualities remained to 
Monsieur Alcibiades a closed book. This the young lady was 
smart enough to see, and if she listened to his protestations with 
seeming patience, it was surely for the same purpose with which 
she tolerated her brother’s bombastic orations for a while, namely 
to confound the confident suitor so much more completely. 

Since the arrival of McMahon, affairs had assumed a grand 
character at the villa. It harbored not only the marshall and his 
staff, but also the large retinue of both, not to count several lady- 
guests, each of whom claimed more room and attention than half- 
a-dozen men. If we add to this the guards and sentinels; the 
adjutants, messengers and orderlies coming and going; the troops 
quartered in the village and bivouacking in the village; the line; 
the zouaves ; the Turcos; the chevaux-legers, dragoons and cui- 
rassiers; the chasseurs on foot and on horseback; if, I say, we add 
this to the picture so lively in itself, we get a total which does 
not often fall to the lot of man to behold. To-day the French 
troops at Froschweiler showed the bright side of war — little did 
they dream of the sad spectacle they were destined to represent 
at the self-same spot a few days hence. 

The “to-day” alluded to was the second day of August. It 
was already drawing to a close, and the brilliant company had 
gathered around the dinner-table in the “grand salon” of the 
villa. There was the Duke of Magenta in his splendid chasseur- 
uniform, covered with medals, orders and badges; there was his 
staff, rivalling in array with the chief; there the fair sex in full 
dress; the host with his good-natured face and obliging smile. 
A lively conversation was flying around the table, for the soldier, 
gay as a rule, is doubly so before the impending battle. The 
fiery wines from the host’s cellar had added their share, to 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


43 


animate the company and the duke, instead ot* checking the 
general mirth, was the very person to foster and enjoy it. Nu- 
merous healths had been drunk, and the meal was drawing to con- 
clusion, when all at once the door was opened and a parcel of let- 
ters handed to the marshal. This caused a lull in the conversation, 
for a battle was momentarily expected, and some of the papers 
in the marshal’s hand might possibly contain the coveted news 
of a victory. For a victory it must be, of course; how could de 
feat befall the glorious armies of the great nation ? 

And indeed their expectations proved correct* The small, firm 
features of McMahon became animated, his eyes shot fire and 
rising to his feet, he said in joyous tones to the breathless assembly: 

“My friends, allow me to congratulate } r ou on our first achieve- 
ment. A great battle, has been fought, and the birds of victory 
have perched as usual upon the standards of our army.” 

A general commotion ensued. Some shouted “hurrah !”; oth- 
ers made their glasses ring, and drank to the continued success 
of the French arms. Through this tumult, numerous demands 
for details made themselves heard. 

“Where? When was it? What troops were engaged? How 
did it go? Give us the details !” 

These and similar questions and summons reached the mar- 
shal’s ear. 

“I have only a short telegram from the emperor,” he said; “and 
the writing is so fine, that my old eyes find difficulty in making 
it out. Lieutenant, will you have the goodness to read it to the 
company?” 

These words were addressed to Victor Dupre. The young man 
rose respectfully, and taking the telegram read as follows : 


Forbach, Aug. 2nd, 4.20. P. M. 

My dear Marshal! 

We gained a victory at Saarbrucken. The division 
under Frossart routed and nearly annihilated 3 Prussian divisions. 
Louis and I were present. The prince was cool and collected, 
and picked up a Prussian ball which fell at his feet. The soldiers 
wept at the sight. • We are going to Metz. 

Yours 

Louis. 

This announcement was received with stormy applause. 


44 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Vive F empereur! Vive la France! Vive 1’ armee!” 

These shouts arose in tumultuous confusion and informed the 
outsiders, that something unusual had occurred. Soon the news 
of the victor}^ penetrated to the rank and file, and the shouts and 
huzzas of the staff were echoed in the village and the bivouac, 
and the success of the French arms drunk with the same ardor, 
tho’ in inferior wine. 

But what, if these brave men — for that they are brave, cannot 
well be disputed — if these brave men, I say, had known, that they 
were performing the most ridiculous version of “Much ado about 
nothing” the world had ever seen ? What, if they had known, 
that this glorious victory consisted in nothing but a four hours’ 
fight between 700 Prussians and 30.000 Frenchmen ? I think 
they would have risen in indignation and crushed a power that 
thought it necessary to treat its soldiers with the same food that 
had been prepared for the washwomen, the gossips and swagger- 
ers of Paris. German vulor has dealt severely with France; but 
French lying has surely done her an injury not much inferior. A 
Government which deems it necessary to keep up the spirit of its 
armies with bogus news, is not worthy to lead brave men into the 
field. 

But to return to our dinner-pa ity. After the excitement had 
somewhat abated, they became reseated, and McMahon proceeded 
to open and read the other papers which had been handed to 
him. All at once he looked up and handed Mr. Dupre a paper 
bearing an official seal. 

“I am happy to see that your petition has been granted,” he 
said. “You will see from this that Monsieur your son has been 
appointed chief clerk in the commissary department. Permit me 
to offer my heart-felt congratulations and at the same time excuse 
my presence, as some of these papers require my immediate at_ 
tention.” 

He arose and shook hands with his host and Alcibiades, around 
whom the whole company now crowded to offer their congratula- 
tions. After the duke had withdrawn, the company scattered in 
the various rooms and formed such groups as chance or inclina- 
tion are apt to produce. Pauline for her part separated from the 
crowd and slipped into one of the recesses which the thick walls 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


45 


of the ancient building formed at the windows, and amused her 
self with looking down upon the gay life which spread out far 
and near before her eyes. A lace curtain separated her from the 
company and allowed her to enjoy the novel sight without distur- 
bance. The approaching twilight caused numberless camp fires 
to dive up in the forest and around the village, and to throw their 
lurid shine upon the picturesque groups around them. Half-a- 
dozen military airs, sung by as many parties, mingled with the 
distant sounds of a band which performed the stirring tune of 
the Marseillaise. The scene was truly enchanting, and the young 
lady willingly lent ear and e} 7 e to drink it in, when she was sud- 
denly and disagreably interrupted by a voice in her ear, which 
said : 

“Is it fair, cousin, to thus deprive us of your company?” 

“At least as fair, Monsieur Alcibiades, as to frighten a body in 
that way and drive away the prettiest fancies by a common place 
compliment.” 

“Pardon me Pauline; but I missed you in the crowd, and could 
not resist the temptation of seeking you, and learning, why you 
alone abstained from felicitating me upon my new appointment.” 

“ Why , Alcibiades? Indeed, I could hardly tell you. The slight 
was not intentional tho’, merely an oversight. Perhaps you will 
pardon me if I make amends by offering now a double share of 
good wishes.” 

“Of course I will Pauline. Somehow I cannot get myself to be 
angry with you, if you neglect me ever so much.” 

“I never mean to, Alcibiades, depend upon it.” 

“So much the better cousin. Only I fear, you do not care for 
me either. Sometimes I imagine that I would rather see you am 
gry than indifferent.” 

“Why, you are melancholy to-night cousin. You look too 
gloomily upon these matters.” 

“Perhaps I do; but such thoughts have haunted me all evening. 
When you abstained from speaking with me about the clerkship, 

I could not help saying to myself: She avoids me; she is silent; 
could she possibl} 7 be sad at the thought of our early parting? 
If so, you would consider yourself a lucky fellow Alcibiades.” 

*But it is not so, Sir; it is not so!” she exclaimed rather more 


46 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


eagerly than the occasion seemed to warrant. She felt it too, as 
soon as the words had left her lips and coloring up, she corrected 
herself by saying: 

“That is, — I meant to say — of course I am sorry to lose you ; 
we all are you know. Only I dont want }^ou to think, — you must 
not imagine — there! you see, you have put me entirely out with 
your melancholy reflections.” 

“I am sorry for it, cousin. I am also sorry, you dont grieve a 
little more than the rest, to lose me. For my part, I regret more 
to leave you, than all the rest taken together.” 

U I thank you for the compliment, Alcibiades” she said with 
increasing nervousness “but let us quit this strain, if you please. 
What do you think of the strange view, one enjoys from this 
window?” 

“Not much Pauline, to tell the truth. I dont think of anything 
much, these days, excepting 3 7 ou. Nay dont get angry, cousin, 
I have to trouble 3 7 ou just a little longer. I have over and over 
again hinted and stated to you, how mach I think of 3 r ou, and 
over and over again have 3 7 ou given me the slip. Come ! speak 
honestly, speak plainly now! Tell me, whether, when far awa3q 
I may think of 3 r ou as one who is willing to link her lot with 
mine in good and evil days? Tell me, in short, whether I may 
consider and announce you as m3 7 betrothed bride.” 

“Ah! you are getting too fast, Sir cousin,” she replied, trying 
to laugh her embarrassment away. “It is evident } r ou have been 
infected with the martial spirit of the times !” 

“There! you are again trying to evade me, Pauline. Is it so 
hard, to give a plain answer !” 

“Indeed then, it is, Sir. Marriage is an important matter, 3^011 
know, and ought to receive due consideration.” 

“Well, I for my part have considered it these two years.” 

“But I haven’t, you see, and there is where the difference comes 
in. Go, write orders, copy accounts, draw up bills, add and sub- 
tract. In the mean time I shall duly ponder upon this matter 
and, when vou return, give you a fair, square and plain answer.” 

“I would much rather have it now Pauline. It would nerve me 
in the hardships and dangers of m3 7 new profession.” 

“Provided it sounded yes , vou mean ? But to think of the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


47 


hardships and dangers of a commissary-clerk ! He sweats over 
his copies, his head swims over his accounts, and the weary 
hand sinks under the weight of the pen. But the hardships are 
trifling when compared with the dangers. The pen-point may 
penetrate his bosom, the ink engulf, the deficit swallow him. An 
invoice of lead may crush him, a bill of nitro -glycerine explode 
him. What are the perils of the battle-field in comparison with 
those of the commissariat.” 

The mischievous girl had uttered these tirades with an expres- 
sion of comical despair, to indulge afterwards in a merry laugh 
at her own wit. Monsieur Alcibiades on his part seemed to fail 
in discovering the fun, for his face assumed a savage aspect, and 
His eyes shot glances so ugly, that the lady might well have star- 
ted, if she had noticed them. As the case stood, she was too 
much occupied in her merriment to do anjffliing but laugh. In- 
deed, she only stopped when he said with a loud and angry voice : 

“You make fun of me — it is well. I offered you love and 
friendship— you refused them. I now declare war to you, war to 
the bitter end, refuse or not refuse. You will soon learn at your 
cost, what it means, to have Alcibiades Dupre for an enemy.” 

She stood aghast at this exhibition of fierce passion which 
was evidently a new feature in the young man’s character. When 
he arose to leave, she started up and made au attempt to concili- 
ate him. 

“Stop Alcibiades!” she said, laying her hand upon his arm 
“We must not part this way. I. am sorry, if I have wounded 
your feelings. I did not mean to. Surely my words contained 
nothing to justif}^ your towering passion.” 

“So? you think not? You think it is pleasant to be for ever the 
butt of your wit and at the same time see your affection thrown 
away upon a fellow who is a mere adventurer and an enemy of 
our country in the bargain.” 

She colored up and said with real or pretended surprise: 

“What do you mean Sir? You talk at random. Can it be that 
your father’s wine inspires your words?” 

“Oh! Iam completely sober, and you. know it. True, you 
have always treated me like a fool; but I am not quite so silly as 
all that. Did you think I had not noticed the fancy you took to 


48 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


that Bavarian fop at the Paris exhibition? You feasted on his 
sight, when with him, and 3^011 thought of him, in his absence. 
It is two years now, since he gave the police the slip ; but you 
need not deny that you still think of him, for I know better. Your 
refusal to listen to my wishes, your fitful moods, your alternate 
spells of grief and merriment; everything tells me that I am sac- 
rifized to the memory of a miserable, and yet fortunate rival. 
But I repeat, what I said before. You shall not despise my en- 
mity, as you despised my friendship, and if ever I cross the path 
of this contemptible puppy, who crossed my purpose, I shall 
crush him — and you too, if need be, — by fair and foul means. 
Remember!” 

With these words he disappeared, leaving her in a strange con- 
dition. She wondered at the strange change which the young 
man had all at once undergone. Thus far he had universally ap- 
peared in the role of the dunce, and she had treated him in ac- 
cordance with his role. Now at once he shows himself wide-awake, 
fierce, implacable. Whence this sudden change? It cannot be 
jealousy alone, for the meeting of which he spoke, dates two 
years back, and yet he had never 6hown himself in this light un- 
til to-day. Could it be barely possible that he feared a meeting 
in the coming war? It was so improbable, almost impossible! 
And yet she dwelled with tenacity upon that thought ; her eyes 
shone and her pulse quickened. Can it be that her cousin was 
after all not so far from the truth? She indignantly denies it to 
herself, when this self-same question presents itself for solution. 
“A mere adventurer!” she exclaims inwardly; “a fugitive from 
the imperial police, and — ” oh ! what a riddle is the heart — a 
truant to a certain young lady, to whom his eyes had unmistaka- 
bly spoken volumes of love. In the opinion of Miss Pauline, 
the last offence of the individual in question was evidently the 
blackest; for when this thought took shape in her mind, her 
brow contracted. She rose hastily and with quickened step, left 
the room. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


49 


CHAPTER VI. 

On the German side of the line the scene was perhaps as lively, 
as on the French; but it was surely much more orderly. Every- 
body there knew his duty and the development of the national 
resources proceeded with a dispatch and yet a regularity, truly 
wonderful under the circumstances. France, which, as the chal 
lenger, might be presumed to have been ready, hesitated for two 
precious weeks, and was but poorly prepared even then. Prussia, 
which had been surprised in a measure, managed to throw her scat- 
tered legions in eleven days to the banks of the Rhine. When they 
arrived there, they were ready to attack. So dense a concentra- 
tion of half a million men could not help causing an occasional 
tightness; but tightness is no disorder and the great German 
anaconda soon loosened its coils, to tighten a grip around the 
foe which held him as in a vice, and was never slackened, until 
it laid him, a helpless prey, at the feet of an insulted nation. 

If there was not so much gayety in the German camps, there 
was more cheerfulness. You heard no vain boasts of glorious 
deeds to be achieved; but you read upon every face the deter- 
mination to conquer or to die. The leaders were not sanguine 
and expectant of something lucky to turn up; but they set to 
work and laid their plans with so much skill and accuracy, that 
they found no difficulty in changing a defensive warfare into an 
offensive one. They had at first been merely prepared to resist 
the expected invasion of the enemy but when this invasion 
was delayed from day to day, they took measures to carry the 
torch of war into the hostile country. Moltke, the king of stra- 
tegians, handled his immense hosts with the same ease, as the 
owner of the puppet-show his figures on the stage. 

“If the French delay their coming two more days,” he said; 
u they will never see German soil.” 

And he was right. These momentuous words were spoken on 
the second of August, and early on the morning of the fourth 
the second Bavarian corps with Prussian regiments of the fifth 
and eleventh, marched across the line, and at Weissenburg in- 
flicted upon the French the first one of the many blows, which 
4 


50 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


broke the empire, and afterwards the pseudo-republic into a 
thousand pieces. But before we accompany them on their bloody 
errand, let us cast a glance upon their camp the evening before. 

The vanguard of Frederic William’s array lay in the villages 
which line the road from Bergzabern to Weissenburg, reaching 
as far as Ober-Otternbach, less than two hours, march from the 
doomed town. It consisted of Bavarian troops, and although 
food and quarters were rather scarce in that neighborhood, the 
men maintained that good-natured cheerfulness which charac- 
terizes their nation. Infuriated as the Bavarian can become in 
the conflict, especially when he imagines foul play on the part of 
his adversary, the troubles and hardships of march and camp 
can only extract from him a good-natured joke or a pithy slang 
peculiar to his native region. 

The out-posts lay in and around the Winzenmuehle, a mill sit- 
uated on the turnpike, a rifle-shot north of Ober-Otternbach. 
They consisted of a company of jaegers which had first observed 
the rules of a rigid discipline, and then quartered itself as com- 
fortably as possible in the homely, but substantial chambers of 
the mill. The proprietor united a restaurant with the establish- 
ment, and was therefore tolerably well provided to quench the 
athirst of his numerous gue3ts in excellent Bavarian beer. The 
large bar-room was filled to overflowing; the soldiers sat on 
wooden benches along a substantial table which ran all around 
the apartment. Before every jaeger stood a “seidcl” or large 
tumbler with beer, and in every -body’s mouth was the unavoid- 
able pipe, from which arose volumes of smoke so dense that the 
low room was filled with a bluish vapor, through which the light 
of the lamps struggled in vain to find its way. The officers of 
the company sat in a smaller room behind the first one; but they 
too sacrifized to Gambrinus and the tutelary spirit of tobacco^ 
and distinguished themselves from the privates in nothing but 
their finer clothes and their better language. The topic of con- 
versation also was the same in the two apartments. The wise- 
acres in both discussed the merits of the campaign and amended 
it in all such particulars as did not coincide with their superior 
wisdom. For a change, pithy anecdotes vcre told, or patriotic 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 51 

songs performed with so much execution, that the old mill shook 
in its foundations. 

It was getting late — the ninth hour drawing to its close, — when 
a tumult in the hall announced the fact that something unusual 
had taken place. Every face turned towards the door into which 
several persons were seen to enter; but so dense was the smoke, 
that only the dim outlines of the new-comers became visible. 
When, however, a lamp was raised, and held near their faces, the 
men recognized in one of them a sentinel who had been posted 
before the building. 

“Martin!” one of the corporals in the room exclaimed; “what 
do you mean by running from your post? Zounds! if the Cap- 
tain sees you, you’ll get into a fine mess.” 

“Well, Sir, I could not help it,” the sentinel excused himself. 
“We saw these two men coming from hostile ground, and chal- 
lenged them according to order. They could give no satisfactory 
account of themselves; so I fetched them here to report to the 
Captain.” 

“What is the matter here?” a voice from the back room could 
now be heard, and a moment later the officer in question stood 
before the group. 

Martin saluted and said : 

“I found two suspicious men on the road, and fetched them in 
for examination.” 

“Where are they ?” 

“Here, Sir!” 

Martin pointed to his companions, and as the lamp was brought 
nearer, and the excitement had caused a temporary cessation of 
the smoke-creating agency, the figures and faces of the stran- 
gers came pretty well into view. They were both young men 
well-dressed and of prepossing appearance. While the one was 
of slender build, and possessed a countenance of uncommon 
beauty, the other was sturdy enough to form a model for a Her- 
cules. Strength, however, is generally coupled with good-nature, 
and in accordance with this principle, the giant really showed a 
face in which kindness was blended with innate intelligence. 
The Captain saw at once that he had to deal with men of respec- 
tability, but as the report of the sentinel placed them in a suspi- 


52 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


cious light, he deemed it his duty to subject them to an examina- 
tion. So he began : 

“Who are you, gentlemen, and where do you come from?” 

“We are travellers from Saarbrucken, and on our way to the 
head-quarters of the southern army.” 

“You are not far amiss then; but how do you account for the 
direction in which you approached us. I think I heard the sen- 
tinel say you came from Weissenburg?” 

“We- merely came from Scliwingen, Sir.” 

“But Schwingen lies near the French lines. What business had 
you there ?” 

“We travelled that way from Saarbrucken, because we expected 
to find the Bavarian vanguard there.” 

“You were well informed then; but you failed to state the 
source of your information. This looks really suspicious, and 
if you cannot give me good proofs of your innocence, I shall be 
obliged to retain you, and send you to-morrow for trial to head- 
quarters.” 

The strangers looked at one another with faces in which per- 
plexity was strangely blended with secret' amusement. Before 
they could reply, Martin attracted the general attention by say- 
ing : 

“With your permission, Captain ; I would not like to say any- 
thing against them fellows, as could hurt them; but I am in duty 
bound to report that I heard them talk a strange gibberish, be- 
fore I challenged them. I haven’t heard much French in my 
life; but I am almost sure that the parlez-vous talk some such 
stuff or other.” 

The handsome stranger seemed to think this very amusing, 
for he burst into a clear laugh, in which his companion joined 
with a quiet chuckle. The Captain seemed vexed. 

“You take matters very lightly, gentlemen,” he said gravely; 
“but don’t forget that many a spy has been shot on slighter evi- 
dence. If you have nothing more to sa}^ in explanation and de- 
fense, I may as well send you to a room up-stairs for safe 
keeping.” 

The strangers took the hint. 

“One moment Captain,” said the spokesman. “I had no inten 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 53 

tion to trifle with you ; but the suggestion of this .worthy warrior 
struck me with such force that I could not help laughing. Can 
you read English, Sir?” 

“Not much, Sir,” said the Captain, scratching his head. “We 
learned it at school; but active duties like these are apt to knock 
such things out of a fellow’s memory.” 

“Well, perhaps you know enough of it, to read these passes* 
issued by the United States of North America.” 

With these words, he handed the Captain two papers which 
that officer handled with scrupulous care. 

“They seem all right,” he said with greater politeness. “You 
are the Messrs. Miller and Schultze mentioned in these passes?” 

“It is as you say, Sir.” 

“So y r ou hail from the United States.” 

“We left them less than two weeks ago.” 

“And what Martin heard was English?” 

“Even so, Sir Captain.” 

“Well, that is all right, I guess; yet I wish’ ,yo'u could offer a 
satisfactory explanation of your being out at so late an hour and 
so strange a place. Speak openly, gentlemen, for I am really 
anxious to clear you.” 

“We see it, Sir, and shall therefore try to comply with your 
request. You know already that two weeks ago we breathed the 
air of the United States.” 

“You told me so.” 

“Exactly. Well, we were friends over there, this gentleman 
and I. We lived in the smoky city of Pittsburgh, and enjoyed 
ourselves as well as that was possible for a couple of poor fellows 
wlio had to work for their daily bread. All at once, however, 
the world was startled by the piece of unexampled impudence 
on the part of your saucy neighbors; by the emperor’s attempt 
to browbeat our native country into submission to his arbitrary 
will. We were shocked at this, and, as the farce proceeded, we 
grew indignant. We waited impatiently for the crisis, and when 
we heard that King William had had the pluck to kick the inso- 
lent Frenchman out of the country, we cried “hurrah!” and has- 
tened to the next saloon to drink his health in lager. We are 


54 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


getting to be civilized over there, Captain. Our beer, if not as 
good as yours, is drinkable.” 

“I am glad to hear it, Sir,” replied the Captain, trying vainly 
to suppress on his own countenance the smile which lit up the 
faces of all present. “But please to proceed. It is getting late, 
and the boys need slumber.” 

‘Tm coming, Sir. We kept up the drinking until we received 
the news that France had declared war to Prussia , but that Ger- 
many responded. Then, Sir Captain, drinking beer did no longer 
satisfy us. I told my friend that I had to make a proposition, 
and he informed me that he was in the very same fix. I then 
moved that we should get our passes and embark to assist in the 
thrashing which the French were sure to get. My friend amended 
by moving that we should lose no time in putting my plan into 
execution. Fortunately we had saved a few dimes for rainy days. 
These we cashed, and hastened to New-York to embark with the 
next steamer. We had a pleasant voyage, and landed at Liver- 
pool only to re-embarkfor Amsterdam. There we took the cars; 
but the nearer we came to the seat of war, the more difficulty we 
found in making headway. At last the chances of railroad or 
wagon died out, and we had to foot it the balance of the way. 
It was a hard road to travel, I assure you; but here we are, and 
if you will only give us a good chance at the red breeches over 
there, we shall feel ourselves fully compensated for our troubles.” 

During this queer speech the soldiers had crowded nearer and 
nearer. They overlooked the odd style of the narrator, to ad- 
mire the readiness with which two distant children of Germany 
had hastened to her rescue in the hour of need. They seemed 
to feel intuitively that the speaker had only spoken as he did in 
, order to keep down what he might deem an unmanly emotion. 
At all events, no sooner had he closed, when, with one accord, 
the hands of officers and privates were lifted and a rousing cheer 
shook the ceiling of the room. At the same time every one en- 
deavored to shake hands with the volunteers, and for five min- 
utes the tumult was too great to hear or speak any connected 
sentence. At last the Captain found an opportunit} T to express 
his own satisfaction at the strangers’ conduct. 

“Only one thing I do not understand,” he added. “You were 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


55 


at Saarbrucken near the Prussian forces; why did you not join 
them, and thus save yourselves all further trouble?’ 

The stranger’s face assumed a queer expression. 

“You want to know why , Captain? Very well, I shall tell you. 
You must know that when we, beyond the ocean, took up a Ger- 
man paper, and read about the attempts of a few noble men to 
accomplish German unity, attempts which had thus far always 
been frustrated by the unpatriotic action of the South, we mourned 
and cursed their folly, and longed for the hour when their eyes 
would be opened and they could see the question as we saw it. 
In America there are no Prussians and Bavarians, no Hannoverians 
and Saxons — we are all Germans there, and why? Because at 
the distance the trifling difference sinks out of sight and we see 
nothing but the grand and beautiful structure of a United Ger- 
many. I was born in Bavaria; my friend here hails from Hann- 
over; but the differences of our native states did not prevent us 
from forming the ties of an indissoluble friendship. We found 
a double comfort in this friendship, because it indemnified us for 
a unity which we had long ago classed amongst the dreams never 
to be realized. Imagine, then, our astonishment, our delight, 
when we learned that our dream had all at once become a reality. 
Will you wonder, when I tell you that we feared to trust our 
eyes and ears? that slight doubts remained in our minds, and that 
we felt an irresistible desire to go right in your midst and con- 
vince ourselves that we hadjnot been deceived? We have met 
with troubles and fatigues to get here; but if they had been a 
thousand times greater ; if we should forfeit with our lives the 
fervent wish to assist in building up German unity, we could 
not have bought too dear the sight which greets our eyes to-night. 
Here you are, sons of the south, ready to fight side by side with 
the Prussian against the arch enemy of the Fatherland, Oh ! re- 
ceive us in your ranks! allow us to conquer at your side, or to 
seal with our blood the bond of unity which the wanton act of a 
foreign tyrant has so strangely brought about.” 

The scene which followed beggars description. Shout rose af- 
ter shout; men* no longer content with shaking hands, rushed ir- 
to each other’s arms and wept tear3 of joy. The volunteers were 
solemnly received into the company, an act for which the Cap- 


56 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


tain promised to secure the sanction of his superiors. The ban- 
quet was resumed, and continued, until the peremptory order of 
the Captain drove everybody to his couch. 

“I would not care,” he said, with a smile; “but it is more than 
likely that we, shall meet the foe to-morrow. On such an occa- 
sion I shall want no sleepy -heads.” 

This had the desired effect. Ten minutes afterwards deep tran- 
quility reigned in the mill, and was not interrupted, until at 
break of dawn the reveille called the men to their places. 




CHAPTER VII. 

Breakfast was this time dispatched in a hurry, for hardly had 
the clock on the steeple of Ober-Otternbach struck four, when the 
bugle sounded the signal to form in ranks. In less than five min- 
utes our jmgers stood on the turnpike in rank and file to be mus- 
tered by their officers. The American volunteers were also on 
hand, and the Captain’s eye dwelled with pleasure on their fine 
forms and the warlike fire which beamed from their eyes. He 
thought he noticed something peculiar in their looks, without be- 
ing able to discover what it was. We could have informed him. 
The strangers had tasted liberty; they had breathed the air of a 
country where every citizen is a sovereign. The other soldiers 
also stood erect — discipline had taught them — but you saw at 
once that it was merely something assumed, unaccompanied by the 
lofty consciousness of the republican. Yet they .too were more 
than mere machines in this war; patriotism had kindled a fire in 
their hearts which shone through their eyes and nerved their 
arms. To the elevated position of the republican, however, they 
could not rise, simply because they had no conception either of 
his privileges or his duties. 

The company had hardly formed, when an officer on horse back 
came galloping along the road. All eyes were turned towards 
him, and When he came nearer, the faces assumed an expression 
of recognition. The company presented arms, and the horse- 
may, saluted with las sword. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 57 

“Good morning, Bohlen,” he greeted the Captain. 

“Good morning, Haller. What is the news?” 

“Excellent, Captain; for in one hour you will have the pleasure 
of engaging the enemy.” 

The company gave a hearty cheer. 

“Do you see those trains?” Haller continued. “They are full 
of troops; and when the} r have deployed, the dance will open.” 

“And my orders ?” asked the Captain. 

“Are, to deploy your company as skirmishers across the road 
to the hills on the right, and keep in feeling with the line on your 
left. A cannon-shot will give you the signal for formation, a sec- 
ond one for advancing. Keep your troops well in hand, for the 
fight may be broken off at any minute.” 

“I hope it won’t, though.” 

“So do I. But what is this? Two of your men in civil dress! 
What does it mean?” 

“Ah ! that is quite a story: They are volunteers, and where do 
you think they come from?” 

“I cannot guess.” 

“Well, then, they hail no further than America. They joined 
us late last night.” 

“From America ? Good for them ! But they must be uniformed; 
the General will tolerate no such irregularities.” 

“That’s what 1 thought; so I sent my orderly back to our bag- 
gage to fetch a couple of uniforms, two guns and accoutrements. 
It will be difficult, though, to fit that tall fellow. He takes cloth 
enough for two common uniforms.” 

“He looks as if he would fight for two, as well.” 

“So he does. But here comes m}^ orderty. Corporal, let the 
two volunteers go to the mill and slip on the uniforms ; but quick, 
for the troops are forming fast, and w T e must be ready for the sig- 
nal.” 

The strangers obeyed the order, and when they returned, ten 
minutes later, the metamorphosis had succeeded as well as could 
be expected. Miller’s uniform was a perfect fit, and Schultze’s did 
well enough, although he looked much like a tall boy who had 
out-grown his clothes. The soldiers rallied him on his appear, 
ance, telling him that he ought to have sent his measure before- 


58 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 

hand by telegraph.^ At this he laughed, and told them that he 
intended to kill the first Turco-giant that came across him, and 
slip into his clothes to scare them into better manners. These 
good-natured railleries were still flying from mouth to mouth, 
when, all at once, the boom of a cannon shook the air and created 
an expectant silence in the company. 

“Attention, company!” commanded the Captain. 

The men obeyed with alacrity, casting, at the same time, curious 
glances at the Americans to see how they acquitted themselves 
of the manoeuvre. However, if they had expected to enjoy some 
fun at their expense, they were mistaken; for Miller and Schultze 
went through their steps with faultless accuracy. 

“By George,” said a fellow in their neighborhood ; “you know 
some pumpkins,” 

“Well, what do you think?” replied Schultze, with a mock ex- 
pression of injured dignity. “Miller was General over there, 
and I was Colonel.” 

“Hugh! what a yarn! With the regulars, of course?” 

“No, with the colored militia.” 

“What? Do they dye the landwehr over there?” 

“I mean the negroes.” 

“Ah! now I see; a kind of Tureo-General?” 

“Exactly.” 

By this time, the company had reached the desired position^ 
stretching in skirmish-fashion across the turnpike up to the foot 
of the steep hills on the right. As they were not to advance un- 
til the second cannon-shot, they had time to look around and ob- 
serve the interesting spectacle developing before their eyes. 

The railroad-trains had, by this time, disgorged their human 
freight and backed out of sight. Troops of all kinds moved in- 
to position. Batteries galloped to some elevations from which 
they could effectually belch forth their iron hail against the en- 
emy. Light troops unraveled into a long line, which evidently 
aimed at connection with our jaegers. Magnificent bodies of cav- 
alry reined their horses in the rear, dashing hither and thither 
and waiting impatiently for the time, when they too were to enter 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


59 


the bloody fray. Behind the skirmishers solid regiments of the 
line went into position to back their efforts, and here and there 
adjutants galloped across the plain, ventre-a-terre, to convey the 
orders of the commanders to the different troops. 

Half-an-hour passed during these preparations, and an impres- 
sive silence lay on the region, when, all at once, a second boom 
shook the air. 

“Forward, march! march !” sounded the command, and the line 
of skirmishers began to advance. They marched through Otter- 
bach and Rechtenbach without seeing a trace of the enemy; but 
when they emerged from Schwingen, the last Bavarian village be- 
fore Weissenburg, the dark faces of the Turcos began to dive up 
amongst the gardens and vineyards. 

“Colonel Schultze, there is your landwehr,” cried a voice, and 
shouts of laughter rewarded the joke. 

“Tell them to stop a moment,” cried another; “we want to get 
a look at them.” 

“Never you fear!” said the giant. “Dont you see they stop al- 
ready? There, they bid us good morning.” 

The chassepots began to crack amongst the grapevines, and the 
bullets to whistle around the ears of our jaegers. But this only 
quickened their motions, and soon the needle-gun began to reply. 
Here and there a man dropped in the line, but the gap was filled 
and the advance continued. The Turcos in front of the com- 
pany gave wa}' until they reached the toll-gate. There a number 
of them threw themselves into the custom-house, a small one-story 
brick building, and opened such a galling fire upon the skirmishers 
that their advance became checked. 

“That will never do,” cried Captain Bohlen, flourishing his 
sword; “we must clean that nest out. Forward, children! follow 
me!” 

On they went with a cheer, led by the Captain; but those words 
were destined to be the last of the brave officer. Before he had 
made a dozen steps, a bullet penetrated his heart and stretched 
him dead on the ground. His men saw it and uttered a shriek of 
rage. Xhe first lieutenant led them on at double quick; but a 


60 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


minute later, the hand that flourished the lifted sword sank to the 
side, a bullet having broken the arm above the elbow. The brave 
man took the weapon in his left, and attempted to proceed; but 
the pain was too great, and he saw himself compelled to fall back. 
Again the men wavered, and there was danger of a retrograde 
movement, when all at once Miller sprang before the line, 

“Follow me, boys!” he cried; “we must avenge our captain 
Part to the right and left to take the building from the flank. 
One half with me, boys, — Sliultze, take the rest, and now forward 
with God for Fatherland!” 

These spirited words restored the confidence of the men. 
Willingly they followed the movements of the improvised 
leaders, and, withdrawing from the front, assailed the building 
from the two flanks. There were no windows there, and the men 
therefore reached the w r alls without further loss. Attacking the 
front and back doors at the same time, they soon gained access 
to the building, and dispatched the bewildered savages with a 
well-directed volley. When they emerged again, Miller stepped 
up to the officer, who, after the disabling of the captain and first 
lieutenant, was entitled to the command. 

“Pardon my forwardness,” he said. “I forgot, in my excite- 
ment, that I encroached on your prerogatives.” 

“Say nothing more,” replied the noble fellow. “You did it bet- 
ter than I could have done it. I shall not fail to report your 
brave conduct at head-quarters, if I live.” 

“Hurrah for our lieutenant!” cried the soldiers who had heard 
the request and the rejoinder. “Hurrah for General Miller and 
Colonel Schultze !” 

But the battle had not stood still meanwhile. The jaegers had 
to move in double quick to reach the line of their comrades, who 
had gained on the enemy. In this they succeeded; but it soon 
became obvious that the masses of the opposing foe were growing 
too dense and powerful to be driven by mere skirmishers.. They 
seemed to recognize this fact at headquarters; for all at once 
Captain Haller made his appearance on his foam-covered horse, 
and brought the order for the men to close up in double lines and 
to allow fresh troops to form on the right and left. This manoeu- 
vre he superintended in person, forming an excellent mark for the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


61 


French sharpshooters, who fired at him whole platoons at a time; 
hut although his uniform was cut in various places, and the hel- 
met shot from off his head, he escaped unharmed. In the midst 
of all these dangers he preserved the greatest tranquility, and his 
voice was so free from excitement, that the men also became cool 
and collected, and received the whistling bullets with the great- 
est composure. At this moment the roar of cannon mingled in 
the conflict, and the bombshells began to sing their hideous song 
and to explode over the German ranks, Amidst the dismal mu- 
sic the order to advance was given, and so vigorously did the 
brave Bavarians press the Turcos, that they turned and sought 
refuge behind the walls of Weissenburg which had once been a 
fortified town. A dry moat was still perceptible at many places, 
and where it was filled, high stone walls surrounded the gardens 
and vineyards belonging to the place. The city-gates were nar- 
row, massive arches, joined on either side by substantial walls and 
buildings. Wooden draw-bridges led from them across the dry 
ditch, and if the reader adds to this the circumstance that the 
place was garrisoned by a numerous and enraged foe, he will ad- 
mit that the task of storming it was no trifle. 

Yet it was accomplished. When the French had been driven into 
the precints of the town, the Bavarian batteries first spat a furious 
rain of shell and shot at and over the unfortunate place, and then 
prepared to storm. Again w r e meet our brave bataillon of jaegers 
as the first in the fray. At the German gate, the conflict raged 
with unexampled fury. Like Horatius Codes of old, a few brave 
Frenchmen had posted themselves on the narrow draw-bridge 
to defend the passage through that gate. They fought with the 
greatest bravery, and sent man}^ a foe into the ditch on the right 
or left, before they in turn were overcome. Those behind them 
in the arched passage also pouted an incessant shower of bullets 
upon the storming jaegers, and thereby raised in their bosoms a 
rage which finally became irresistible. It was here and then that 
Colonel Schultze showed himself in his glory. The men could af- 
terwards find no words to describe the frightful fury of his on- 
set. He had managed to out- distance his comrades, and to reach 
the gateway before all others. Having arrived there, he seized 
his gun by the barrel, and swung it around his head with a force 


62 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


that laid an enemy low at every blow. There was something de- 
mon-like in the appearance that made the French shrink back in 
utter dismay, and enabled the jaegers to reach the open space 
within the gate. There they began to spread and to drive the 
foe toward the centre of the town. The enclosures around the 
gardens had also been carried in the meantime, and everything 
promised a speedy termination of the fight, when all at once the 
arrival of fresh forces on the part of the French not only stayed 
the flight, but threatened to turn the tide of the battle against 
the Germans. It soon became evident that they had an entirely 
Insufficient force at their disposal. The zeal of the Bavarians 
had carried them too far. They fought, a single army-corps, 
against an overwhelming strength, and it soon became evident 
that they must either be reinforced or give way. These reinforce- 
ments are on their way, — Prussian regiments of the fifth and ele- 
venth corps — but they have not yet arrived. The situation be- 
comes critical. Adjutant after adjutant rides to the heights on 
the left of Schwingen, where Frederic William, in the company 
of General Blumenthal, conducts the battle. 

“They cannot hold out!” is the universal cry. 

“They must. Tell the brave fellows that succor will reach 
them in half an hour.” 

At this moment Captain Haller presents himself before the 
Crown- Prince. 

“Will you Royal Highness allow me to join the fight? I dril- 
led these bataillons and my presence may be of service.” 

The prince looked with evident satisfaction into this noble 
face, to which the fiery enthusiasm of the hour lent an uncommon 
beauty. 

“Be it as you say, Captain,” he replied. “Only remember, that 
I shall claim a certain Captain Haller of your hands to-night.” 

“That is, as God may will it,” they young man replied. Then 
saluting the chief he gave his horse the spurs and galloped down 
the hill with a rapidity which showed him to be in dead earnest. 
Before the drawbridge the horse reared at the heap of human 
bodies; but his master’s voice calmed it and soon its shoes 
drew fire from the pavement of the streets. Near the scene of 
conflict the Captain halted and let his eye wander over the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


63 


•urroundings, in order to gain an idea of the situation and act 
accordingly. The battle was nearly stationary, the two contest- 
ing parties struggling for the possession of the marked-place, 
an open square in the center of the town. Yet hi3 experienced 
eye discovered a slight wavering in the German ranks and know- 
ing, how easily such vacillation may turn into a rout, he has- 
tened to reassure the masses. With drawn word he rode into 
the foremost ranks and tried to gain the car of the soldiers. 

“Steady lads !” he cried, “the Prussians will be with you in a 
minute. This way with you battery. Open the ranks boys and 
let them through.” 

A cheer rewarded his efforts. The promise of reinforcements 
revived the flagging spirits and caused the fight to gain new 
life. The cannons were posted, loaded with cannister ank fired 
into the street from which the enemy exercised the greatest 
pressure. It had a salutary effect and for a moment caused the 
French to recoil. Still they felt their advantage too keenly, to 
suffer themselves to be so easily deprived of it, and returning 
shot for shot, stormed with growing impetuosity against the 
German position. The Germans, however, refused to yield, and 
so the battle again assumed the character of the most fearful 
hand-to-hand fight. In this their superior physical strength and 
the narrow place of conflict gave them a temporary advantage, 
but it conld not escape Haller’s watchful eye, that the French 
were advancing through side streets and threatening to cut off 
the German retreat. In this dilemma the heavy tramp of the ap- 
proaching Prussian guards sounded to him the sweetest music he 
had ever heard. He galloped towards them to direct their move- 
ments. 

“Deploy to the right and left,” he cried; “we can hold our 
own.” 

Then returning to his men he communicated to them the cheer- 
ful news. 

“Our friends are coming!” he cried, jumping from his horse. 
“Forward is the word now.” 

And forward they went with a will, the French again taking to 
their heels, until the entire town was in the hands of the Germans. 

But the task was only hali* finished even then.* The French re- 


64 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


treated to the strong position of the Gaisberg, the commencement 
of the famous W eissenburg lines which Marshal Yilliers caused 
to be constructed in 1705, and which reached from there to the 
Rhine, running along the western brow of the hills which crown 
the valley of the Lauter. To see this and to rush to a second as- 
sault was the work of a minute. Perhaps this might have been 
avoided; for the prospective advance of the second Prussian army 
would have made the position untenable; but there are moments 
in war, when the martial spirit of the troops cannot be checked, 
and — if this were possible — ought not to be checked. 

Such a moment had arrived. Without waiting for orders from 
headquarters, the troops clamored to be led against the hill, and 
now began a race in which Prussian and Bavarian displayed the 
noblest emulation. The road ascends from Weissenburg gradu- 
ally through vineyards and hop-gardens, until it cuts the summit 
of the hill and falls gently off into the valley beyond. Many of 
the vine}^ards consist of terraces built up with strong walls, offer- 
ing as many bulwarks to the French from which they ought to 
have easily hurled their foes back into the depths below. In fact, 
if we look at these heights in cool blood, we declare it impossible 
for an assaulting party to force them from an adversary of equal 
or even inferior strength. And yet it was done in this memora- 
ble war, and not only at Weissenburg was it done, but also at 
Woerth and at Spicliern. It was moreover done with a heroism 
truly wonderful. It takes a martial spirit fired by the most ar- 
dent patriotism to overcome such obstacles. The Bavarians had 
thus far borne the brunt of the battle ; they were told to rest, since 
the Prussians were strong enough to finish the work alone. But 
the brave fellows forgot that they had gone through a fatiguing 
march and battle; they insisted on being led against a position 
before which a frightful portion of their strength was soon to lie 
in the cold embrace of death, or in the agony of wounds, even 
more frightful to behold. 

Our company was again under the special leadership of Cap- 
tain Haller. The mutual liking which had existed between them 
ever since the drill on the parade, had to-day received the fiery 
baptism of a bloody battle. The men were ready to follow wher- 
ever he led, and Jie to undertake impossibilities, wdien backed by* 


Weissenburg. 








* 






























-s 






* 










« 
























THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


65 


such heroes. They climbed from terrace to terrace, doing terri- 
ble execution but suffering in proportion. The French were dri- 
ven; but it could not be denied that they contested every foot of 
ground with the greatest obstinacy. On the last terrace, the strug- 
gle was the severest. The French seemed to feel that they must 
keep this position or give up the battle. They fought accordingly. 
Wherever a German climbed the wall, a ba} T onet, a bullet or the 
butt end of a musket was ready to dispute his advance. Haller 
grew impatient. Benefiting by the skill which all Prussian sol- 
diers are compelled to acquire in gymnastics, he climbed the ter- 
race in advance of his followers. Turning to encourage them, he 
failed to notice that two Turcos singled him out for a common 
assault. One of them leveled his gun at his back, and the other 
reached out to dash out his brains with a blow of his rifle-butt. 
Haller’s danger is imminent; his fate seems sealed. Before suc- 
cor can reach him, the shot of one Turco or the blow ofjtlie other 
must surely terminate his existence. But the crisis brings also 
unexpected assistance. The two Americans have kept near his 
person, evidently attracted by the cool courage which speaks from 
every word and gesture. Perhaps they have also resolved to shield 
him, in case his advanced position exposes him to extraordinary 
dangers. Now they are on hand and come to his assistance. 
Miller’s gun is not loaded, and the fellow shooting at the Captain 
is beyond the reach of his ba3^onet. To load again would be too 
late; so he quickly puts his hand into his bosom and drawing forth 
a revolver, fires it at the Turco as soon as it comes into line. To 
judge from the effect, Miller must be no novice in the use of that 
weapon ; for the Turco receives the bullet in his right eye and 
breaks down as if his legs had been shot from under him. He 
seems to have had his finger on the trigger, for his gun goes off 
and the bullet whistles in dangerous proximity to the Captain’s 
head. Miller, however, has no time to notice this, for the second 
Turco claims his attention. Fortunately that gentleman is al- 
ready watched by Schultze or Miller’s assistance might have been 
too late, in spite of his quickness. As it is, the giant has seen 
the^mischievous intentions of the Arab, and taken measures to 
prevent them. Seizing his left leg, he gives him a jerk powerful 
enough to land him on the platform below. There he lifts him 
5 


m THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

up with both hands, and, throwing him to the next terrace below, 
exclaims: 

“There, lads, is a live monkey. Take good care of him; for he 
is a fine specimen for the zoological garden*” 

After that, he again turns his attention to affairs above, appa- 
rently as unconcerned as if he did not deem this little intermezzo 
important enough to disturb his peace of mind. A moment af- 
terwards he stands at the side of Captain Haller and his friend 
Miller, and assists them in crushing the last resistance of the 
French. 

Fifteen minutes later their work is done. The enemies have been 
dislodged from the vineyards and retreat to a poplar-grove higher 
up the hill. Thejsegers are completely exhausted, and fortun- 
ately there is no further need of exertion, for fresh troops are 
coming ready to relieve them. So our jaegers become spectators 
instead of actors in the fray. They see, how the royal guards 
charge the grove and dislodge the Turcos; they see, how batteries 
are planted to batter down the fort-like Gaishof whmh crowns 
the hill and forms the key to the French position. When the can- 
nonade ceases, they again form in line and assault the strong- 
hold. Thickly the bullets fly into their ranks, and many a brave 
soldier is laid low; but the onset is irresistible, and half-an-hour 
later, the black and white floats from the pinnacles of the castle. 

The battle ceases; the enemy has been defeated, and the defeat 
rapidly assumes the character of a rout. The pursuit is entrus- 
ted to the horse, and now at last the brave jaegers are able to en- 
joy their rest. It is four o’clock, as they wipe their heated brows 
and sit down to eat a morsel which they have taken with them 
for emergencies. Haller shares their scanty meal, and, stepping 
up to where our Americans are seated, offers his hand to both of 
them. 

“But for you, my noble lads,” he says ; “I should be a corpse 
now. To thank you were idle. You must permit me to remain 
your debtor for the balance of my life.” 

“That’s all right, Sir,” replies Miller, with a merry laugh. “Only 
you must not suffer this debt to oppress you. Who knows what 
may turn up before to-morrow to make us even.” 

“Well, let turn up what will, 3'ou must not forget that you can 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


67 


count on me in all emergencies. But listen; there is the signal 
for rallying. If we go it at that rate, we shall be at Paris before 
the month is over.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

That night the victorious army encamped at Sulz. The fa- 
tigue, the danger, the slaughter of the day had already been for- 
gotten by the men with that carelessness which war invariably 
begets. Life, so frail in itself, is at a terrible discount then, and 
philosophy teaches the soldier to enjoy to-day , where to-morrow 
is so precarious. 

Our jaegers formed no exception. Songs, tales and anecdotes 
went round their camp-fires, and our Americans participated in 
no small degree in the general hilarity, when all at once an officer 
made his appearance who enquired for them, and informed them 
that they were wanted at head-quarters. 

“Ah ! I looked for that !” Miller exclaimed, with comical con- 
sternation. “They are going to lecture me on my forwardness, 
and tell me in due kindness to mind my business after this. Well, 
a fellow cannot escape his destiny. Come along, Schultze.” 

The two rose and followed the officer to the principal hotel of 
the town, where the Crown-Prince had taken his quarters. At 
the door they met Haller, who escorted them to the room occu- 
pied by His Royal Highness. The prince was engaged; but on 
seing the captain and his companions, he arose and returned 
their salutation with much affability. 

“•Shake hands, gentlemen,” he said with a smile; “for that, I 
think, is the fashion with you across the water. I have heard so 
much about you through Captain Haller and others, that I was 
anxious to make your acquaintance.” 

“We are at your Highness’ service,” said Miller. 

The prince looked with evident pleasure at the noble form of 
the speaker, whose demeanor was as faultless as that of a cour- 
tier. » 


68 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“You call yourself Miller?” he inquired. 

“That is my name, Sir,” 

“And you Schultze?” the prince continued, with a merry twin- 
kle around his mouth. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, well, that is a strange coincidence. It sounds a good 
deal like a chapter from Kladradatsch. But tell me, are these 
fictitious names?” 

“They are the names we go by,” Miller replied evasively. “Our 
passports are at your Highness’ service.” 

“No, no! I do not want to see them. Brave men like you are 
at liberty to call themselves Eisele and Beisele, Zwickauer, or 
Miller and Schultze as they please.” 

The prince laughed and seemed to enjoy his joke, while the 
two Americans were the prey of a slight embarrassment. The 
prince, however, soon put them at ease. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen, for making sport of you,” lie said. 
“It was not for this, I requested your presence. I wanted to ex- 
press to you my gratification at 3 our bravery, and thank you in 
the name of our common country for the zeal with which you 
hastened to its defense.” 

“We thank your Highness for his goodness.” 

“No, no, it is we who have to thank 3^011. But tell me, would 
you consent to accept a charge in m3 r father’s army.” 

“Your Highness is too kind; but we have formed a liking for 
our brave comrades from the south, and would prefer to serve 
with them.” 

“I honor }^our repl}\ We are all one now, and if you serve 
King Ludwig 3^011 serve my' father. But that does not alter the 
case. I want to see 3 r ou in a position corresponding with 3'our 
abilit3’. I shall appoint you lieutenants with the jaegers.” 

“But, your Highness, we are not ambitious, and ” 

“Not ambitious!” the prince interrupted him; “the deuce you 
are not. If you are not ambitious, why do 3^011 commit deeds 
that put you in every body’s mouth? If you are not ambitious, 
I am, and n^ ambition prompts me to employ men like 3 r ou in. 
their proper sphere. The jaegers lost heavily, I hear, and there 
are more than two vacancies to fill. So say nothing more 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


69 


about it, and do not thank me either, for there is no occasion. 
And now gentlemen, let me before parting remind you that you 
have friends in the army, who will be pleased to hear from you 
occasionally. No thanks, gentlemen, no thanks! I must insist 
upon it. Good night to you,” 

Captain Haller accompanied them to the door. 

“I can only repeat the Crown-Prince’s words/’ he said on part- 
ing. “Forget not that you have friends in the army. As far as 
I am concerned, it gives me pleasure to inform you that we shall 
not lose sight of one another, as I ha\e been appointed major 
with the jaegers.” 

“Indeed!” Miller cried joyously. “That’s what I like to hear. 
Won’t we give it to the red breeches now !” 

“We’ll do our duty at all events. But please excuse me now, 
as I have pressing duties. Good night to you and pleasant 
dreams.” 

“That’s a trump of a captain,” said Schultze, as they walked 
towards their camp ground. 

“Yes, and a trump of a prince. By George! many a member 
of our shoddy-aristocracy might learn simplicity of him.” 

“So they might; but here’s the camp. I wonder how the boys 
will receive the news? If they get jealous, I would rather remain 
private.” 

“I would at all events ; but then I saw no way of escaping the 
irksome honor. —As to the boys, they’ll exonerate us, when they 
learn the truth.” 

“Then they shall learn the truth at once,” said Schultze. 

So when they had resumed their seats, Schultze requested a 
minute’s silence and informed his comrades that they had been 
made officers against their will. 

“We didn’t want to accept,” he said; “but you see a fellow can- 
not snub a Crown-Prince like a shoe-black, and so we drew in sail. 
Still if there is any one amongst you who thinks this elevation 
unfair ” 

“ Elevation'” he was interrupted by one of the men. “Colonel 
Schultze of Uncle Sam’s Moors has been degraded to a first lieu- 
tenancy and yet he talks about elevation. Hurrah for Gen. 
Millerand Col. Schultze!” 


70 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Hurrah! hurrah!” the company cried with shouts of laughter 
and so the matter was settled, and on the next morning the two 
officers entered upon the duties of their new position with an as- 
surance and efficiency which showed that their high rank in Un- 
cle Sam’s colored militia had not spoiled them for their lower 
sphere. 

The fifth of August was spent in preparations for another con- 
flict on a grander scale. The Uhlans had been out and brought 
the news that the corps of Canrobert and Failly had reinforced 
McMahon’s army, and that the marshal had taken his position on 
the heights behind the town of Woerth, a fearfully strong position. 
To learn this and to resolve upon an assault was the work of the 
same moment. Yet the execution of the design was by no means 
easy. The fifth of August was a rainy day, followed by a night 
still more rainy. The rapid advance of the troops, had made it 
impossible for the provision-trains to keep up, and as the coun 
try had already been drained by the badly-supplied French, many 
a German soldier went hungry into one of the bloodiest battles 
on record, after having passed a sleepless night in miserable biv- 
ouacs. So in this respect no army had much of an advantage 
over the other, and in regard to numbers the same thing may be 
asserted. Including the shattered ranks of General Douai, who 
had found his death on the Gaisberg, the French army numbered 
about 72,000, while the German counted in all 150,000. Of these, 
however, a large portion was not engaged, and taking into con- 
sideration the really fearful position which McMahon had taken, 
it may be safely asserted that the chances for the contending arm- 
ies stood tolerably even. The distance from Sulz to Woerth i s 
about ten miles, and a portion of the morning was consumed by 
getting into position. After ten the first cannons began to play, 
and corps after corps was drawn into the obstinate and bloody 
struggle; but I have neither the heart nor the time to unfold be- 
fore the reader a second bloody picture in detail. Let him be 
contented to receive the principal features of a combat which w T e 
cannot entirely ignore, if we desire to keep in sight the persons 
whose adventures we have made it our business to chronicle. 

The town of Woerth lies in a caldron, from which heights of 
lesser and greater steepness arise. The former are covered with 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


71 


those vine} 7 ards and hop-gardens whieh we have already noticed 
at Weissenburg. The latter are mostly crowned with dense, lux- 
uriant forests, which form natural strongholds for the French 
army. Westward of Wcerth runs the road to Froschweiler, the 
village we had occasion to visit before. It rises gradually toward 
the village, which lies on a high plateau, intersected with woods, 
The town of Woerth lies on a little island formed by the conflu- 
ence of the Sulzeand Sauer; wcerth signifying nothing but island. 
It was a strong position, as the Prussians learned to their cost; for 
two assaults were beaten off, and only after the third did they 
succeed in holding the town. But the conflict was not over then. 
Woerth was a Weissenburg on a grander scale. As, at the latter 
place, the Gaisberg had to be taken after the town, the Germans 
could not consider themselves victorious at Woerth, as long as the 
French held the hills in its rear and the village of Froschweiler. 
They knew it, and the same courage, the same contempt of death, 
which had distinguished them at Weissenburg displayed itself in 
their assault on the French position at Woerth. Wading the swol- 
len waters of the two rivers, the} 7 climbed the steep banks to be 
mowed down in companies by the chassepot and mitrailleuse. 
But where one fell ten followed, and at last the heights were car- 
ried. Another victory had been won. The spoils were much 
greater than at Weissenburg. Immense wagon-trains, the bag- 
gage of the commander, the tents of two whole divisions; can- 
nons, mitrailleuses and chassepots; standards and eagles; thou- 
sands of prisoners fell' into the hands of the victors. The Bava- 
rians had also secured their share of the laurels. On the plateau 
back of Froschweiler they executed a brilliant flank-attack, 
which had completed the defeat of the French In it our jaegers 
were engaged. Major Haller handled his bataillon with his 
wonted skill and coolness, and the newly-created lieutenants sus- 
tained the character they had won in the first conflict. 

When the strife was over, the men saw a squadron of Wurtem- 
berg dragoons thundering past them. 

“Ha ! if a person could just accompany them!” exclaimed Mil- 
ler. “I havn’t had a good steed under me for ever so long.” 

“If that were all, you ccrtild easily be accommodated. See! 
there are dozens of riderless horses galloping over the plain.” 


72 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Yes, and that sorrel especially. What a noble animal! See 
how he carries his head and tail! Watch ! he is coming this way; 
he seeks his master. I wonder whether he could be caught. I’ll 
try at all events.” 

With these words he hastened to intercept the course which 
the animal seemed to take. When it approached him, it stopped, 
neighed and shook its mane. Miller said a few assuring words, 
and boldly stepped up to it as if the capture was a mere matter 
of course. This answered the purpose, and a few minutes later 
he galloped towards his comrades with a skill and elegance that 
at once betrayed the master in the art of horsemanship. 

“You are made for a horseman, lieutenant,” Haller addressed 
him; “and if I do not recommend you for that branch, it is from 
sheer selfishness. However, if you want to exercise a little this 
afternoon, I have no objection. The Crown-Prince will like to 
hear some details of the pursuit, and I could send no better per- 
son for that purpose.” 

“Thank you, major. But what about Schultze? You know 
the story of Orestes and Pylades . . . . ” 

“Ah, yes, I see. It takes a heavy horse, though, to carry him. 
Can he ride?” 

“Better than I.” 

“That’s saying much. But here comes my servant with the 
spare Holsteiner. It is the heaviest beast in the army, I believe, 
and if Pylades has to go I’ll lend it to him.” 

“Thank you, major,” cried Schultze, and n6 sooner had the groom 
come up, than he jumped into the saddle and declared himself 
read}' for duty. 

“Be off then,” said Haller. “Return with the earliest reliable 
information you can get.” 

A moment afterwards the two horsemen galloped in the direc- 
tion which the dragoons had taken. The latter were a good piece 
ahead; but the road seemed to describe a curve and when they 
reached a by-road branching off to the right, they wondered 
whether, by taking it, they w'ould not cut off a considerable piece 
and catch up with the Wurtembergers. Having no time for de- 
liberation, they chose the alternative, in keeping with their char- 
acter, and boldly struck into the by road, which at first ran with 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


73 


the other like the segment of a circle, and seemed to verify their 
supposition. Their progress moreover was less impeded, for not 
only was the road less cut up and therefore better ; but it was al- 
so freer from obstacles in the shape of dead Horses, abandoned 
cannons, wagons etc. They congratulated themselves upon their 
selection, when all at once they rode into a valley where the main 
road turned to the left, while their own way began to betray a 
considerable inclination to the right. Now they began to doubt 
the wisdom of their choice; but as the ground between the roads 
was of a swampy n ature, they had no choice but to retrace their 
steps or pursue their course. They chose the letter expedient so 
much the rather, as they imagined to discover frequent traces of 
travel on the road. 

“A division of the beaten foe seems to have turned in some- 
where about here,” Miller remarked. “If we ride on, we may 
come up with them and capture a whole company. Wouldn’t that 
be glory th o’ ! If we accomplished such a feat, we might yet 
end as General and Colonel.” 

“Or as prisoners of war,” replied Schultze dryly. “If I see right 
— and my eye used to be considered pretty good — I see quite a 
number of sansculots running a piece ahead of us.” 

“Not sansculots then, Schultze ; for these fellows surely wear 
pants. Don’t you see their red breeches?” 

“Well, avecculots then, if you prefer it. Pants or no pants, 
we’ll either have to annex these fellows or let them annex us.” 

“Oh well, we can stand it a little yet, I think. They seem to 
have no horses, and if they have, we can easily escape them, as 
ours are fresh and theirs are jaded. Come, let us ride a little 
faster, to see what this amounts to. It will tickle the large 
family of the Millers and Schultzes to death, if we finish the war 
by ourselves.” 

“Miller!” Schultze solemnly exclaimed, “you can not entertain 
such murderous thoughts. If you tickle all the Millers and 
Schultzes to death, you kill more persons than King William and 
Emperor Louis together.” 

During these words they had quickened the gait of their hor- 
ses and would certainly have soon gained a better view of the 
party before them, if the region had not begun to assume a more 


74 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


wooded character, bushes and trees lining the road, or the latter 
intersecting little groves. 

When nearing one of these groves, they all at once heard a 
piercing shrieck, which unmistakably emanated from a woman 
and that too from one in distress. But how could this be? Had 
the retreating foes been mean enough, to attack a countrywoman 
of theirs? It was hardly probable and yet the red breeches surely 
belonged to the French army, no branch of the German host 8 
wearing them. Perhaps they were zouaves, or — worse yet — turcos ! 
The blood ran cold in the veins of the two, when they imagined a 
tender woman in the hands of such barbarians, They knew it 
would be foolhardy in them to attempt a charge on such over- 
whelming numbers; they knew, it might even be considered as 
at variance with their duty : but in spite of all that, they loosened 
their revolvers with a simultaneous grip, slackened their reins 
and spurred their horses to a furious gallop. 

As the advance of the other party seemed to have ceased at the 
same time, this rapid gait soon brought them in sight of a spec- 
tacle, which spoke too plainly for itself, to require an explanation. 
A band of some fifty men — they seemed to be turcos — surrounded 
a covered carriage, whose inmates of course were invisible, but 
whose span of horses seemed to be a source of dispute amongst 
the men. There was no coachman on the box and altogether the 
spectacle was a riddle to the scouts. However, thej^ had no time 
now, — if they had had the disposition — to draw back. Their 
onset was so vigorous, that they could not have checked it, 
before reaching the turcos. So they abstained from reining 
up at all and rode with a ringing huzza into the very midst of 
the crowd. 

The effect was magic. The men scattered in all direction, as 
molten lead does, into which a stream of cold water has suddenly 
been directed. True, they had no arms; but even if this had 
been the case, the effect of the shock would hardly have been 
different. Afterwards the fugitives were perhaps guided by this 
deficiency, for they ran, every one of them, until they were 
completely out of sight. This was favorable to our assailauts, for 
while the little grove, in which they found themselves stationed, 
concealed their number, the surrounding region was not suffi- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


75 


ciently wooded, to bide the return of their pursuers. After 
convincing themselves of their temporary safety, they rode to the 
carriage-door, to ascertain the character and condition of its 
inmates. 

What they saw, was well calculated to arouse their sympathy. 
They saw a young woman bending over another, who had evi- 
dently fainted in consequence of the rough, and probably unex- 
pected encounter with the ruffians. To judge from the dress, the 
conscious lady was superior to the unconscious one, not only in 
character, but also in rank. She tried all accessible means, to 
arouse their companion from her swoon. She called her name, 
rubbed her temples, and held a smelling-bottle under her nose* 
without, however, receiving at first a sign of encouragement* 
This seemed to worry her considerably, for she looked up with a 
look exceedingly troubled and exclaimed anxiously: 

“Jean!” 

But no Jean replied. Jean probably had been the coachman, 
but as there was no dead body near the carriage, it is to be pre- 
sumed, that he took himself to a safe distance from what he most 
likely considered a risky neighborhood. In looking out for Jean, 
the lady perhaps glanced over the figures of the two horsemen; 
but if this was the case, it was done unconsciously. If her nerves 
had resisted the severe attack, under which the servant had 
failed, it was nevertheless sufficiently severe, toimpair her vision 
or the capacity of her brain to receive the impression. She 
probably took them for members of the band, who had treated 
her so rudely; for instead of addressing them, she returned to 
the sick woman and renewed her efforts to resuscitate her. 

But if the lady had not recognised the men, one of them at 
least seemed to know her , for he started at her sight and for several 
minutes became the prey of an unaccountable agitation. He 
looked at her with the most searching glances and appeared to 
feel considerably anno} T ed, that she busied herself exclusively 
with her servant and took no time, to pay attention to her sur- 
roundings. At length her efforts were crowned with success; for 
the patient began to breathe and after a while opened her eyes, 
ank gazed about. She could not see the horsemen from her 
place ; but the remembrance of the late adventure appeared to 


76 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


affect her sufficiently to make a relapse into her swoon very im- 
minent. Her companion tried therefore to persuade her with 
soothing words, that there was no further cause for fear and that 
they would resume their journey, as soon as Jean would make 
his appearance. 

The assurances were interrupted by a thousand exclamations 
of the woman, one more silly than the other. 

“Oh Mademoiselle Pauline, the holy Virgin savejus! We are 
lost! We are lost!’* 

“Oh, come to your senses, Jeanette! You talk at random. Why 
should we be lost?” 

“Why? Oh Holy Virgin! hear her talk! The Prussians! the 
Prussians !” 

“The Prussians?” the young lady asked in amazement. “Wha* 
in the world puts the Prussians in your head?” 

“Oh! Mademoiselle Pauline! did you not see them? The men 
with red pantaloons and black faces.” 

‘‘Why, silly girl, they were turcos. They have evidently left us 
to ourselves; so if you’ll move a little I shall get out and look for 
Jean, for it is time that we should resume our journey.” 

“Oh do not go, Mademoiselle! For heaven’s sake do not leave 
me. They were Prussians ; for they have entered into a compact 
with the evil one and can assume whatever form they please; sim- 
ply to ensnare us, and eat us alive, when they have us in their 
clutches.” 

“Why Jeanette, what silly prattle! You surely do not believe 
what you assert.” 

“Not believe it ? and why then please should our worthy parson 
have told us? If I cannot believe a clergyman, whom should I 
trust?” 

“And your clergyman has actually told you such stuff?” 

“He has, Madam, and you will find that he is right. They 
have eaten my poor brother no doubt, and they’ll soon be here 
again to receive us. There ! Listen ! Dont you hear that noise ? 
Oh Holy Virgin, deliver us, deliver us !” 

She had risen during these words and noticed the two horse- 
men, who had had remained mute, but attentive spectators of the 
scene. Miss Pauline — as the servant called her — involuntarily 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


7f 


followed the other’s glance, and was in truth considerably start- 
led in perceiving note?, what she would have perceived a good 
while ago, if her mind had been in its normal condition. She ut- 
tered a low cry of surprise, and with wide-open eyes stared at the 
strange apparition. 

On meeting this gaze, one of them — Miller — started again, but 
seemed now to settle a doubt which had preyed on him before* 
A ray of pleasure beamad from his eyes, and greeting the lady 
with a respectful military salute, said in fluent French : 

“Fear nothing, Miss Delmont, you are in good hands. We were 
just in time to prevent those dusky rascals from making away 
with your horses.” 

The lady started. 

“You know me?” she inquired wonderingly. “You speak French 
like a native. Are you not Germans, then?” 

“We have that honor, as you can see from our uniforms.” 
“Then I am indebted to my foes for assistance against my 
friends?” 

“May God always protect you from such friends.” 

“The service you rendered me forbids me to add : and from 
such enemies . But you have failed to explain how you learned 
my name; will you not have the kindness to set me on terms of 
equality and enable me to remember the names of such gener- 
ous foes.” 

“And so you do not recognize me, Miss Delmont? Then the 
dust of battle must surely have covered my face with an impene- 
trable layer.” 

The lady started. She casta scrutinizing glance at the speaker 
and all at once a ray of recognition lit up her countenance. She 
colored, and the expression of her face was decidedly joyous. 

“Ah! now I know!” she exclaimed. “You are Monsieur ” 

“Miller,” he interrupted her with a bow. “Lieutenant with the 
Bavarian jaegers.” 

At these words the joyous expression faded from her face, mak- 
ing room for one of the opposite character. Her voice sounded 
cold and distant, as she replied : 

“You are p'aying a new role then. I have seen you in so many, 


78 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

that I cannot doubt your eminent talent for acting, Monsieur 
Miller y 

The last word was spoken with a cutting emphasis, intended 
and evidently received as a rebuke. 

“Judge not, lest ye be judged”, he replied gravely, “I admit 
that you have reason to attribute to me the qualities of the cha- 
meleon; but if you will listen to my explanations ” 

“I have neither the right nor the time to receive them,” she 
broke in. “I am under recent obligations to you, or I might have 
added disposition. Allow me to express my sincere thanks for 
your interference and the hope that you will not suffer yourself 
to be detained on my account. Here is my coachman, I see, and 
with his assistance I shall fare admirably.” 

“As you please Madam,” Miller replied, chilling himself at her 
icy politeness “we are not in the habit of forcing our company 
upon unwilling people.” 

“The presence of your armies tells a different story,” she could 
not refrain from retorting. 

“We simply return an intended compliment. But excuse me, 
Madam; I for one am opposed to warring on the' weaker sex. 
Good day and a pleasant journey.’’ 

Another polite bow — then he put spurs to his charger and gal- 
loped away, closely followed by his companion. If he had de- 
signed to look behind, he would have had the satisfaction to see 
that the lady in the carriage leaned out of the door and looked 
after their receding forms with a look in which affection and the 
vexation recently evinced were strangely blended. 

— — 

CHAPTER IX. 

The reader knows with what marvelous rapidity the Germans 
pushed this campaign. The Crown-Prince was not slow to follow 
up the victory of Wcerth. That same evening the vanguard en- 
camped at Niederbronn* We see our jaegers snugly quartered in 
the houses of the village, dispatching their supper, singing, jok- 
ing, debating as usual. Miller, however, did not join in the con- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


79 


versation of his fellow officers. He was uncommonly taciturn^ 
and instead of seeking the company of his comrades, retired to 
a spot, where he could be alone and indulge in his reflections. He 
was not missed by anybody but Schultze, who, either from habit 
or strong affection, seemed incapable of enjoying himself in the 
absence of his friend. So he started on a search, and soon had 
the satisfaction of discovering Miller on a garden bench behind 
the house, gazing into the moon, and blowing dense clouds of 
smoke from his cigar. He sat down by the side of the dreamer 
and said : 

“Miller, what is the matter ?” 

“Nothing special : why do you ask?” 

“Because you are so taciturn against your habit. You haven’t 
said a dozen words since our adventure on the road. To tell the 
truth, the meeting with that lady is the cause of your change.” 

Miller started and was on the point of protesting, when Schultze 
stopped him and said: 

“Don’t try to blind me, Robert; it is no use. I know you too 
well, not to understand your symptoms, and you ought to be 
ashamed to attempt dodging an old friend. There is something 
the matter with that girl in the carriage.” 

Miller remained silent. 

“I don’t speak French as fluently as you,” Schultze continued; 
“but I understood enough of your conversation to know that you 
had met before. Speak out; unburden yourself; or, if you don’t 
want to do that, stop at least this moping. It isn’t idle curiosity 
that prompts my question, and you ought to know it. I am so used 
to your cheering merriment, that this moping fit makes me un 
comfortable. Take your choice then : either make me the com- 
panion of your trouble, or hold up your head and show, yourself 
the gay fellow that used to spread merriment around him.” 

This was the longest speech Miller had ever heard his friend 
make. His solicitude evidently moved him ; for he gave his hand 
a warm pressure and said: 

“I know it, August; I know it well. Nor was it want of con- 
fidence, which kept me from pouring m}^ troubles into your ear. 
I hated to draw you into the vortex of unpleasant memories, 


80 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


which, as you perceiv e, have given birth to thoughts of rather a 
gloomy nature.” 

“Then I was right; I knew I was. Still, I would not have 
thought that you would suffer yourself to be troubled with the 
recollection of a girl.” 

“Well, August, you used the expression and I adopted it- 
Trouble is rather too serious for my state of mind.” 

'‘Then chase these gloomy thoughts away.” 

“That I am unable to do.” 

“Well, then you have only the alternative of making me a 
confident. I am not to be shaken off, Mr. Miller, depend upon it.” 

The other thought a moment; then he replied: 

“Very well, let it be as you wish. I have known you now for 
two years, shared joy and sorrow with you, and found you invari- 
ably a true, noble, sympathetic fellow. I do not see, why I 
should not enlighten you on some events of my life, which I keep 
concealed from others. But light a cigar first; a person can talk 
and listen so much better, when the fragrant smoke flies around 
his nose.” 

Schultze accepted; he lit a cigar and Miller resumed : 

“You know I am a Bavarian by birth — with that you must rest 
satisfied for the present; for I have made a solemn vow not to use 
or reveal my real name until I have washed off in French blood 
several stains, which (I regret to say) folly and dissipation have 
left on my record. Suffice it to sa} 7 , what you may have guessed 
already, that my name is not Miller.” 

“As little as mine is Schultze. I, too, withhold my name from 
similar motives.” 

“I thought as much; but this shall not affect our friendship. Let 
us each conceal what we cannot consistently divulge, until we have 
established a new and honorable record in this war. Let’s have 
3^our hand on that, old fellow.” 

Schultze received and returned the hearty grip of his friend, 
who continued: 

“My father lives in easy circumstances, and from my early 
youth supplied me with more mone}^ than was perhaps good for 
my welfare. I was his pet because I always brought him favor- 
able reports from my teachers regarding my progress. Unfortu- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 81 

nately however, my deportment was not in keeping with my ad- 
vancement, and if I enjoyed the reputation of the aptest scholar 
in my class, I coupled it with that of being also the most reckless 
and mischievous one. I was the instigator of nearly all the prac- 
tical jokes of the school, and those, of which I was innocent, were 
nevertheless sure to be laid to my charge, because my character 
for mischief was so well established. As I grew older, my scene 
of action widened, and at last some of my achievements assumed 
so alarming a character that they could not help reaching my fa- 
ther’s ear, thus gaining me a severe lecture with the strict order 
to abstain at once from such disgraceful conduct. However, I 
had too long been indulged to become all at once a strictly duti- 
ful son, and so I continued my mischievous practices, taking 
merely greater care to prevent discovery and conviction. It is 
doubtful, how long I could have successfully carried on this con- 
duct, if a variance with my father’s political creed had not on a 
sudden produced an estrangement, and paved the way to a com- 
plete rupture. My father belonged to the particular ists, while I 
on the other hand embraced with enthusiasm the principles of 
Young Germany, and advocated the union of all the German tribes 
into one great and glorious empire. To these principles I still 
adhere, and in them you must find the cause of my participation 
in this struggle; but if I maintain the correctness of my views, 
I am far from asserting that I conducted myself in those days 
with that modesty which became my age, or that respect which 
every child owes his parents. On the contrary, I am ready to 
concede that I erred in this and many other things, and that my 
conduct led me into irregularities — not to use a harsher term — of 
which I am heartily ashamed, and to undo which, I would gladly 
sacrifize a number of the years meted out to me. But it is use- 
less to lament over past errors, and you will pardon me for slip- 
ping over these matters as rapidly as possible. Suffice it to say 
that the relation between my father and myself became daily 
colder, and that I finally threw off what I considered an intoler- 
able constraint, when the arrival of my majority put me into pos- 
session of a legacy which I considered sufficient to allow me an 
unrestricted pursuit of my inclinations. A rebuke more than 
usually severe, ripened my resolution of leaving the parental roof, 


82 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


and I departed without saying farewell, or communicating my in- 
tentions. The Exhibition at Paris at that time drew the univer- 
sal attention to that city, and I onty followed the example of 
thousands, when I bought bills of exchange on Parisian bankers, 
and took the express-train for Europe’s gayest capital. The 
usual attractions of Paris were heightened by the exhibition, and 
before long I had plunged into a whirlpool of pleasures which 
soon exhausted my purse, without indemnifying me for the satis- 
faction to be derived from the pursuit of higher and nobler aims. 
To do myself justice, I failed from the start to appreciate these 
senseless debaucheries in which so many youths of Paris lose 
their lives. I participated in them as much for the sake of sti- 
fling unpleasant memories as for anything else. Nor can I say, 
how their compulsory abandonment would have affected me, for 
just on the eve of my impoverishment I became entangled in po- 
litical combinations, whose discovery drove me from France. Not 
that I. had really entertained any very blood-thirsty intentions 
against the emperor or his government ; but it was fashionable 
at that time to conspire, and I was doubly loth to pass for un- 
fashionable in this respect, as my reserve might have been con- 
strued by my boon-companions as a lack of courage. But if our 
plots were not very dangerous the government considered them 
so, or pretended to at least, and this circumstance made our pas- 
time much more hazardous than we would have wished. We had 
our places of rendez-vous, our watch-words and signals, and as we 
met much more frequently than the matter really required, we 
could not help exciting the suspicion of one of the detectives, 
who from that moment tracked all our steps with that dogged 
tenacity for which the tribe is noted. 

“I shall never forget the night which betrayed to us his real 
character, and shaped both his destiny and ours. Most of the 
conspirators were scions of noble houses, and had as such access 
to the best society of Paris. As their companion I too was 
everywhere received with open arms, especially, where daughters 
were to be provided with husbands. I spoke French with the 
fluency of a Parisian, was tolerably good-looking, passed for ed- 
ucated and was reputed to be a millionaire : what wonder then, 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


83 

that I met everywhere with a reception much more in keeping 
with my pretensions than with my merits? 

“On the memorable evening alluded to, we were invited to a 
masquerade given by a Russian princess to the elite of Paris. To 
be absent wonld have been considered equal to the admission that 
we did not belong to this elite, and so we resolved to make our 
appearance, although we had previously agreed upon a political 
meeting which could not well be postponed to another day, and 
was therefore announced to take place three hours later than ori- 
ginally intended. After agreing upon a badge, by means of which 
we could recognize one another, we parted to make the necessary 
toilet. I had no desire to attract attention, and therefore chose 
a plain domino, an attire which I shared with many others. I 
made the round of the brilliant “salons,” and was at last attracted 
by the graceful motions with which the younger guests flew thro’ 
the mazes of the dance in one of the larger apartments. How 
long this attraction would have chained me to the spot, I do not 
know; for all at once a circumstance occurred which changed me 
from a mere spectator into s mething of a participator. One of 
the ladies, a tall, graceful figure, lost a wreath, just as she flew by 
me, and half-a-dozen gentlemen at once hastened to pick it up. 
It rolled to my very feet, and common politeness required that I 
should join in the general effort of securing it. Having the ad- 
vantage of position, I seized the prize. When the dance was over 
I stepped up to the owner of the wreath* and said : 

“ ‘Excuse me, madam, for assisting these poor flowers to regain 
their enviable position.’ 

“The lady laughed. 

“ ‘Well said,’ she replied. ‘I see you want to put both me and 
my flowers under obligations.’ 

“ ‘I should indeed like nothing better. Have the goodness to 
instruct me regarding the means.’ 

“ ‘Ah, you desire to be instructed! You see then that flattery 
has but little prospect of success.’ 

“ ‘I did not flatter, madam; 1 never flatter.’ 

“ ‘You complimented me on the strength of an accident.’ 

‘This accident alone g a e me the courage to approach you.’ 

“ ‘Then we have both reason to feel grateful for this accident.’ 


84 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


44 ‘Madam makes me happy by this admission,’ I said warmly. 

“ ‘How so ?’ she replied, starting up. ‘Ah! now I see,’ she con- 
tinued. : You make bold constructions for one so very timid.’ 

u ‘Your kindness gives me courage.’ 

“ ‘I would warn you not to presume.’ 

“ ‘If I did, I am ready to do penance.” 

“ ‘That’s right. I like a spirit of contrition. To test your 
earnestness, I shall beg you to conduct me to my seat. My cava- 
lier servant has deserted me, it seems : evidence, how little the 
male sex can be relied upon.’ 

“Before I knew it, her arm rested on mine, and I escorted her 
to one of the smaller rooms. There was a vacant seat next to the 
one she selected, and without waiting for an invitation I sat down 
by her side and continued a conversation which had begun in so 
spicy a manner. I had always admired wit and spirit in women ; 
but never before had I yielded so willingly to their charm. It is 
needless to worry you with a detailed account of everything that 
passed between us. Suffice it to say, that I was completely cap- 
tivated by the keen wit, the intelligence, the sweet voice of my 
masked companion. I will not undertake to decide, whether these 
qualities would have made the same impression under ordinary 
circumstances. I am even ready to admit, that the place, the oc- 
casion and my ignorance of her looks had much to do with 
my infatuation. However this maybe, I know that I experienced 
in her company a delightful sensation new to me, and that my 
growing desire to see her countenance finally induced me to hffid 
words to this desire. The lady burst into a merry laugh at my 
request and shook her head. 

“ ‘Your petition is hardly fair,’ she said. 

“ ‘Why not ?’ I responded. ‘Of course, I mean to unmask as 
well as you. Indeed I shall at once set you a good example.’ 

“I was on the point of suiting the action to my words, when 
she stopped me. 

“ ‘It is unnecessary,’ she replied, laughing all the while. ‘You 
need not take off your mask to acquaint me with your individual- 
ity. I know your name and face already.’ 

“ ‘You do?’ I replied with considerable surprise. ‘Pray, how 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 85 

can this be? No one but a few intimate friends were aware of 
my intention to appear here to-night.’ 

“ ‘And yet I know you well. There is something peculiar in 
your step and bearing which enabled me to penetrate your dis- 
guise. Do you think, I would have accepted your attendance, if 
I had not been aware of your chara ter?’ 

“I thanked her for the compliment, and asked in turn whether 
I had seen her before. 

“ ‘Not only seen,’ she replied. ‘You have even talked to me. 
I perceive that mystery lends me a charm which would vanish 
with the mystery. How then can you in fairness ask me to be the 
• destroyer of my charms or rather your infatuation?’ 

“Her resistance however increased my desire to gaze upon the 
countenance of a woman who had made so deep an impression 
upon a mind not very impressible* I begged and coaxed and plea- 
ded, until I finally carried the point, and was permitted to gaze 
upon a face whose beauty I need not extol, since you had this 
very day the privilege of beholding it yourself.” 

“Ah! I comprehend,” said Schultze. “The lady in the 
coach — ” 

“Was my partner on that memorable night. I had indeed seen 
and spoken with her before, without receiving any remarkable 
impression; but that was my fault, not hers , and when she 
twitted me about it, I acknowledged my shortsightedness and asked 
her permission to cultivate her acquaintance and atone by future 
devotion for past indifference. This permission was graciously 
bestowed, and before the expiration of an hour we chatted and 
laughed together, as if we had known each other for years. But 
I was not the only suitor for her favor; every few minutes some 
gentlemen or other made his appearance to lead her into the en- 
tangled mazes of the dance. To get rid of them, I myselfgclaimed 
her hand in the whirling round of the ball-room, and the very 
amusement at which I had formerly sneered as imbecile and pue- 
rile, became enchanting at her side. Let me pass rapidly over the 
happy hours of that evening ; hours whose unalloyed bliss all the 
later vicissitudes of my life have been unable to efface from my 
memory. When I was at the height of my enjoyment, a hand 
suddenly touched my shoulder and a voice whispered in my ear : 


86 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Remember!” It was one of the conspirators who thus all at 
once awakened me to reality and, what he considered, duty. As 
he remained by my side and seemed determined to enforce my 
company, I was compelled to say farewell to Miss Delmont. Be- 
fore leaving, however, I begged and received permission to call on 
her next morning to pa}?- my respects. Little did I dream at that 
moment that that visit should never be paid, and that years would 
elapse before my eyes again beheld her.” 

“If I am not mistaken, she blamed you for your want of punc- 
tuality?” suggested Schultze. 

“You understood her right; but if you will listen a few min- 
utes, you will perceive, how little r Y was to blame for this want of 
punctuality. After leaving her I followed my friend in rather a 
surly humor. He endeavored to open a conversation ; but when 
he perceived that I answered either in monosyllables or not at all,, 
he shrugged his shoulders and led the way to our rendezvous in 
c mpl te silence. We were in the habit of meeting in the back- 
room of a well-frequented restaurant; for we thought that the po- 
lice would be less apt to suspect us in so public a place, than in 
another of greater secresy. It was late, and as we were no longer 
expected, the gas has been turned down, so that merely a feeble light 
pervaded the room. We seated ourselves around a table and com- 
menced to discuss our plans, taking it for granted that we were 
the only occupants of the room. During the discussion however 
some one produced a paper, to read which he increased one of the 
jets of gas to its usual brightness. No sooner was this done* 
than my gaze fell upon the figure of a man who crouched in a 
corner of the room with the evident intention of avoiding dis- 
covery. I touched my neighbor’s shoulder and pointed in the di- 
rection, and as this drew the attention of the rest to the suspi- 
cious spot, the presence of the man became known to the whole 
company. There was a momentary suspension of speech as well 
as motion, a circumstance which evidently told the stranger that 
he was discovered; for he jumped up and endeavored to escape 
with the greatest dispatch possible. I was nearest the door, and 
as I felt convinced that our safety depended upon the success or 
failure of his attempt, I made a dash and slammed the door into 
the lock, just as he prepared to make the final spring which would 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


87 


have secured his safety and oitir ruin. No sooner saw lie himself 
thus foiled, when he turned, and, with a mien of authority, ex- 
claimed : 

“ ‘Messieurs, in the name of the emperor, you are my pris- 
oners!’ 

“For a moment this unexpected turn paralyzed our physical as 
well as mental powers; but no sooner had we recovered from the 
shock, when the boldest amongst us summoned the rest to punish 
such treachery, and silence for ever the spy who was on the point 
of thwarting all our designs and exposing us to the rigor of the 
law. This appeal had the proper effect. He or we\ became the 
parole, and we advanced upon the intruder with weapons drawn 
and miens so determined^ that he evidently became alarmed for 
his life. Raising his fingers to his mouth, he uttered a shrill 
whistle, which not only brought us to a momentary stop, but also 
attracted the attention of outsiders, for we heard the tramp of 
many feet shaking the floor of the front room. 

“ ‘Quick, boys, quick !’ cried our leader, at the same time deal- 
ing the stranger so heavy a blow with his slung shot that he drop- 
ped down without a sound. ‘Each for himself now! take to your 
heels or Cayenne will be our lot.’ 

“With these words he opened the door; but rushing through 
we met — a living wall of policemen who were unmistakably bent 
upon our capture. Thus far conspiring had been a mere pastime 
to me; a source of amusement to fill my idle moments; but now 
it assumed a rather serious aspect. I knew that the government 
would pay mighty little attention to the motives which had led me 
into this fraternity; but would punish my offense with the utmost 
severity of the law. If I was not shot or guillotined, Cayenne 
would be my certain lot, and this consciousness filled me with the 
determination to escape from the hands of my foes or lose my 
life in the attempt. I drew my revolver and threw myself against 
our assailants with all the force of which I was capable. My 
companions followed my example, and soon the two parties were 
nothing but a confused mass of angry combatants. Pistol-shots 
were freely exchanged, and here and there a cry of pain betrayed 
the fact that they had not been fired at random. I for my part 
had thus far abstained from using my weapon. I had succeeded 


88 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


in breaking the circle of our foes, and was hastening towards the 
door, when I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder which tried to 
seize the collar of my coat, for the purpose of stopping my re- 
treat. Thus threatened I had no choice. I turned and fired up- 
on my pursuer with such effect, that he staggered back and al- 
lowed me to continue my flight without further molestation. I 
reached the street and then ran as I never had run before. It 
was no longer Cayenne now : if my shot sh ould prove fatal, as I 
feared it would, the gallows were sure to claim me as their vic- 
tim. At first I ran without a certain aim, merely wishing to put 
an assuring distance between myself and the police; but when 
this was accomplished, I turned my steps towards my lodgings for 
the purpose of preparing for further flight, for I knew full well that 
it would be impossible for me to remain in Paris. When I came 
within a square of the house, I noticed a certain commotion 
about the door which looked suspicious and induced me to ap- 
proach it with caution. This was well, for on drawing nearer, 
I recognized the uniform of policemen who had probably over- 
hauled my papers and lay now in wait for me, should their col- 
leagues fail in accomplishing my arrest at another place. I with- 
drew as stealthily as I had approached and then stopped at a re- 
tired spot, to reflect on my situation. It was truly desperate. I 
was in my ball-costume, with hardly money enough to last a day 
or two. I had no pass, no over-coat, no baggage; in short noth- 
ing tha,t might assist a suspicious individual in safely passing the 
frontier, In this dilemma I formed the desperate resolution of 
calling on the Prussian embassador with whom I was slightly ac- 
quainted. The Bavarian envoy was not in the city just then; but 
even if he had been, I should have hesitated to make him my 
confident, as, in that instance, my father would have learned of my 
whereabouts and doings. True, I had discarded his authority 
and disregarded his wishes ; but yet I had no desire to add to his 
grief by making him a partner to my troubles. 

“It was then about two hours after midnight. When I presen- 
ted myself to the porter of the Prussian embassy, and stated my 
desire to see his Excellency, the man stared at me with open eyes 
and evidently considered me under the influence of wine.. How' 
ever, when I repeated my request, stating that I must see his 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


89 


master on business of the utmost importance, lie took my card 
and conducted me to a servant who sat in the antichamber and 
seemed to find great difficulty in keepirg off sleep. 

“When I informed him of the nature of my errand, he stared 
like the porter, but, on seeing my card, became more polite and 
informed me that his Excellency had not yet returned from a 
party, but was expected every minute. If I would take a seat, 
he would deliver my card and inform me of his master’s decision. 

“I now recollected that I had seen the embassador at the mas- 
querade. Chafing at this vexing delay I acted on the servant’s 
advice and spent a very restless hour, ere the minister returned. 
At length a carriage rolled before the door and a minute after- 
wards that dignitary ‘ascended the stairs. The servant had 
hardly handed him my card, when I stepped up to him and beg- 
ged him in a polite but urgent manner to grant me a short 
interview. I must have looked pale and excited, for the embas- 
sador started at my sight, and cast at me a glance which seemed 
to wonder and ask, what this strange freak could mean. How- 
ever, he granted my request, and when we were alone in his study, 
I gave him a short but truthful account of my late adventure 
and of the desperate straight into which my folly had placed me. 
For folly it was. I saw it then: in truth, I had seen it from the 
beginning. My companions were not the men to upset a govern- 
ment and give the people a better one. The fashionableness of 
the thing; the fear to appear in the light of a coward; the absence 
finally of something better to do, had drawn me into the plot, 
and there I was, although I would have given much to be free 
from the complication. The embassador saw this too, from my 
crest-fallen mien, and it was for this reason perhaps, that he 
censured my attempt in so lenient a manner. 

“ ‘Why don’t you go to your own minister?’ he at last inquired 
after some preliminary remarks. 

“I told him the reason, and he shook his head. 

“ T would rather have nothing to do with this affair,’ he contin- 
ued 'for, if discovered, it may lead to complications with our 
Court. Still, there is more folly than malice in your offense, and 
[ hate to forsake a country-man in a straight, whose only avenue 


90 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


is apt to lead to the scaffold. But then, what can we do? I see 
nothing but obstacles, no matter in which direction I look.’ 

“He stopped and I too maintained a respectful silence. After 
a pause of fully ten minutes he started up and said: 

“ T think, I have it — yes, that may do. You speak French 
readily, I believe?’ 

“ ‘With the fluency of a native.’ 

“ ‘Well, so much the better. Now listen to your instructions: 
You are my private secretary and go in my service to the Court 
of St. James. There is an English steamer at Havre, whose 
captain is under obligations to me, for a little service I was for- 
tunate enough to render him. I received a note from him, in 
which he states, that he intends sailing for London this coming 
noon and asks, whether he can be of any service to me. I have 
already answered his letter in the negative; but if we dispatch a 
telegram for him without delay, to the effect that I mean to send 
a messenger by his boat, and beg him to await his arrival, my 
request will no doubt be complied with. Now, when does the 
next train start for Havre? Look in that paper, please. Five in 
the morning you say? Very well, that would do. Meanwhile, of 
course, you must remain with me and make all needful prepara . 
tions. Fortunately only two of my servants have seen you, and 
they are both of them trusty, reliable men. And your effects are 
in the hands of the police ? Well, well; then, I suppose, I’ll have 
to fit you out myself. These fancy-clothes will never do. Leave 
them with me and don one of my suits. I am a little fleshier 
than you, but I have seen many a worse fit than that. Now the 
over-coat — no remonstrance, Sir! We can use our time to much 
better advantage.’ 

“In that wa}^ I was fully equipped for a journey. The good-na- 
tured minister insisted upon my accepting a little purse and a 
small trunk , because, as he expressed himself, no attache of a 
Prussian envoy would travel without either, and their absence 
might create suspicion. Thus persuaded, I yielded the point and 
concealed myself in my benefactor’s bedroom, while he himself 
dispatched the before-mentioned telegram and ordered the car- 
riage to take me to the station at the appointed time. I parted 
from him with tears in my eyes ; but he would not listen to any 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


91 


professions of gratitude, so that nothing but my looks and the 
fervent pressure of my hand were suffered to betray my feelings. 
Indeed, if he had not lent me his generous assistance, I should 
hardly sit here to-night to tell you my story. You may well im- 
agine that the depot was closely guarded, and L tliat an unknown and 
suspicious-looking stranger would have been arrested on the spot ; 
but, cunning as the policemen of Paris are, it never entered their 
heads, that an attache of the Prussian embassy and the daring 
conspirator could be the same person. The servants too made 
a little more show than necessary. They exposed their livery 
as much as possible; they secured my ticket; they checked my 
trunk on which my new title could be read in glaring letters, 
and they finally accompanied me to a first-class coupe with much 
more servility than they would otherwise have shown. The po- 
licemen stood by and saluted; the engine whistled, and soon the 
train bore me away from a place which had suddenly become so 
dangerous for me. 

“The distance from Paris to Havre is not considerable. At 
noon the train halted at the depot of the latter place, and when I 
walked to the baggage-room to claim my trunk, I was accosted 
by an Englishman who introduced himself as the captain of my 
steamer, and begged me to make use of a carriage which he had 
engaged, in order to quicken our departure as much as possible. 
This suited my purpose ; I left the platform and entered the car- 
riage; but as I turned back to watch the motions of my friend? 
the captain, my look was attracted by the face of a man who stood 
on the platform, and was engaged in an eager conversation with 
a policeman. I had certainly seen that face before — although I 
cannot to the present day recollect where — and, what was worse, 
the man had seen me , probably recognized me. The expression 
of his face changed; the words of the officer to which he had at 
first listened with indifference, seemed all at once to gain consider- 
able interest, and a choking sensation about my heart told me 
that I believed myself betrayed and pursued. 

“Meanwhile the captain had entered the carriage and ordered 
the driver to proceed. On looking through the small window in 
the back of the carriage I again saw the stranger, this time point- 
ing to the vehicle as the cause of his excitement. I surely was 


92 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


discovered; more than that, I would be lost, unless a higher 
power interposed miraculously in my behalf. At all events, it 
would not answer to leave the captain in ignorance concerning 
my situation. In his co-operation lay the only possible chance 
of escape. 

“ ‘Captain,’ I said hurriedly, seizing and pressing his arm. 
‘Could you possibly induce the driver to double the speed of our 
carriage?’ 

“ T might,’ he replied wonderingly; ‘but why — ’ 

“ ‘Don’t ask questions now’ I interrupted him. ‘If ever you 
craved an opportunity of repaying your friend, the envoy, you 
have it now. I am pursued, and unless we make the sea, before 
my enemies have time to come up, my life is lost.’ 

“My companion evidently was the man for emergencies. With- 
out asking another word of explanation, he raised the front- win- 
dow and said to the driver : 

u ‘My friend, we are in a hurry. If you can take us to the 
quay in five minutes, you shall have twenty francs.’ 

“That was plain talk and the driver understood it. He whip- 
ped his horses and a moment afterwards we fairly flew over the 
pavement. I kept my eye to the little window in the rear, and 
it gave me some comfort, to perceive no sign of immediate pur- 
suit. Yet I knew, that I would be pursued, and a heavy sigh 
of relief wrung itself from my breast, when we drew up on the 
quay and alighted. The captain ordered my trunk to be taken 
on board, and led me thither with the greatest dispatch. Fortun- 
ately, the preparations for an immediate departure were all com- 
pleted, and when the captain gave his order to put off, nothing 
but a single cable had to be hauled in. At the same time the 
screw commenced its revolutions, and to my great relief the vessel 
began to obey the propelling force. Still the Ads inertiae of so 
great a body was difficult to OA^ercome, and we swung off the quay 
with a slowness that made me nervous. I stood at the cabin- 
window and watched the receding shore, when all at once my 
eye was attracted by the rapid motion of a hack which stopped 
on the quay and discharged two passengers in whom I at once 
recognized the suspicious individuals of the depot. They had 
evidently lost my track; for their moA r ements were those of men 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


93 


who entertained doubts as to their best course. Perhaps they 
had merely taken the direction of the quay, because it was natu- 
ral for them to conjecture that a fugitive would take to the sea* 
Their eyes wandered over the vessels in port and of course scan- 
ned our steamer, as she was in the act of leaving port. Still they 
seemed undecided as to their proper course, until all at once the 
stranger pointed at the steamer and talked so eagerly to the po- 
lice-officer, that I felt sure he argued the propriety of boarding 
the vessel and reclaimihg me. I started back in consternation, 
forgetting at the moment that the darkness of the cabin would 
prevent them from seeing me. As I learned afterwards it was 
not I that had attracted their attention, but my trunk which in 
the hurry had been left on deck and betrayed my presence. At 
this moment the captain stepped into the cabin, rubbing his hands 
and preparing to congratulate me upon my seeming safety* I 
stopped him short, and, seizing his arm, drew him to the window, 
where he could see my two enemies in the act of stepping into a 
boat with the unmistakable intention of boarding our vessel. 
The captain muttered a curse between his lips. 

“ TIang these parlez-vous !’ he exclaimed. ‘They are as keen 
on the track of a fellow as the boodhound on that of his prey. 
But we shall foil them yet. They are mistaken, if they think 
that they can board an English vessel, and take therefrom a per- 
son who is under the protection of the British flag generally, and 
that of Captain Endsley particularly. Give me the key of your 
trunk, and then come to my cabin. Quick ! I must lock you up 
for a little while, and then attend to these busy-bodies. We’ll see 
whether an English tar isn’t a match for a pair of French detec- 
tives any day.’ 

“After this he hurried me to his own cabin and locked me up 
in a kind of a closet, the door of which opened with a spring and 
could in no wise be distinguished from the other panels of the 
room. It was totally dark, but seemed to receive a supply of 
fresh air from some hidden source; for i was in no way annoyed by 
that feeling of closeness, which soon oppresses a person, when 
confined in a narrow space. I felt around to make myself fami 
liar with the locality, and hardly had I accomplished this, when 
voices in the cabin informed me of the arrival of my pursuers. 


94 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


The partition was but thin, and I could hear distinctly what was 
said. The captain inquired after the wishes of his visitors who 
hastened to explain the nature of their errand, and demand the 
surrender of a criminal who was guilty of high treason and mur- 
der, and had taken refuge on board the vessel. I trembled, when 
I heard these grave charges, for I feared that they might influence 
the captain and induce him to comply with their demands. His 
voice, however, reassured me. He feigned the greatest surprise 
at their communication and said: 

“ 4 Ah, now I understand ! The man you seek started with me 
from the depot, but he is not on board.’ 

44 4 Not on board?’ one of the strangers exclaimed in surprise 
l What in the world has then become of him?’ 

44 ‘That I cannot tell,’ resumed the captain ‘but what I know is 
this: This morning I received a dispatch from Paris, stating 
that a passenger for my steamer would reach Havre about noon, 
and requesting me to have a carriage ready to receive him. As 
the telegram pretended to come from a friend of mine, I complied 
with the request and really met with a stranger who had my ad. 
dress and introduced himself as the passenger in question. Of 
course, I thought it all right and conducted him to the carriage 
which we both entered, ordering the driver to take us to the 
quay. All at once however my companion began to evince a 
strange restlessness. He looked every now and then through the 
window in the back of the carriage, and finally begged me to 
hurry the driver to greater speed. I told him that we had plenty 
of time; but this did not satisfy him, for all at once he opened 
the door, jumped out, and ran into a side-street with a hurry 
which not only prevented me from stopping him, but caused me 
to entertain serious doubts as to his soundness of mind. I was 
sorely vexed, gentlemen, and you won’t wonder at this, when I 
tell you that I had delayed my departure several hours on account 
of this very fellow Still, I am not the man to press a person in- 
to my vessel and therefore ordered the driver to proceed, sending 
at the same time a few curses after the crazy chap for the sake 
of easing my mind. So you see, gentlemen, that I am incapable 
of complying with your request.’ 

44 ‘Why, this is queer,’ I heard the second stranger exclaim. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 95 

‘We met your driver as he returned from the harbor, and he told 
us that he had landed two passengers on the quay.’ 

“ ‘Then the chap must have been drunk and seen double/ 

“ ‘We saw no symptoms of intoxication/ 

“ ‘Perhaps you didn’t,’ retorted the captain, beginning to betray 
signs of annoyance in his voice. ‘You are at liberty to credit 
me or the driver, just as you please ; but as to me, I have no time 
to bandy words with you. My vessel claims my attention and 
with your kind permission, I shall leave you to yourselves. You 
are at liberty to search my vessel, and if you can find your man, 
I shall of course be the last person to oppose his arrest. Good 
morning gentlemen/ 

“I thought I discovered a touch of sarcasm in his voice which, 
of course, could not fail to anger the strangers. They tried to 
stop the captain by claiming that it was his duty to assist and 
facilitate their search; but this insinuation he proudly repelled, 
telling them that he was no French detective, and that strict neu- 
trality was the best they could expect from him. Still, they con- 
tinued to clamor, asserting that the fugitive must be on board 
the vessel, since they had seen his baggage on deck. 

“ ‘What baggage do you mean?’ the captain inquired with 
feigned surprise. 

“ ‘The trunk you took with you from the depot/ 

“ ‘ That trunk ?’ the captain exclaimed with well-feigned indig 
nation. ‘Well now, gentlemen, you had better pause to think, be- 
fore you go any further in this ticklish affair. That trunk belongs 
to an attache of the Prussian embassy, now on his way to Lon- 
don. He left in too much of a hurry to think of his baggage, 
and the minister, who honors me with his friendship, sent the 
trunk to me to deliver it to the owner on my arrival in London 
Here is the key. Your worships are at liberty to examine the 
contents of the trunk, and convince yourselves of the correctness 
of my statement.’ 

“Still the strangers were not satisfied* 

“ ‘That may all be,’ one of them replied; ‘but the whole thing 
looks too suspicious to be dismissed on such superficial evidence. 
We must insist upon the return of this steamer to her moorings.’ 

“A new tremor crept over my body, for I knew that the vessel 


96 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


was still in the port and under the guns of the forts which could 
soon and easily enforce the demand of the official, in case the 
matter was reported at head-quarters, I knew moreover that 
but few men would be willing to run such risks for a total stran- 
ger, and momentarily expected the word which would announce 
the captain’s readiness to capitulate. Fortunately however that 
worthy was an exception from the rule, possessing in a high 
degree that genuine bull-dog-spirit of John Bull, which considers 
it a disgrace to yield to any foreign demand, 

“ ‘Insist and go to hell!’ he exclaimed, ‘Please where is your 
authority for such arbitrary measures?’ 

“They could show no such authority, but volunteered to take 
the entire responsibility upon themselves. To this, however, the 
captain objected. 

“ ‘Look ’a here, gents’ he said with a taunting sneer. T }delded 
as much, as I have a mind to yield at all, depend upon it. Search 
this vessel to your heart’s content. If you find your man, you 
are welcome to him. If not, why then you will oblige me by 
shifting your quarters, and that too without much loss of time y 
for if I am not mistaken the steamer is by this time well on her 
way.’ 

“The strangers uttered a cry of indignation. 

“ ‘You will rue this conduct,’ one of them exclaimed. ‘If we 
are foiled in the exercise of our duty, we shall be sure to seek re- 
dress at a higher tribunal, and you will learn at your cost that the 
French Government cannot be thwarted with impunity in its own 
harbors.’ 

“ ‘Do your best, gentlemen, or rather your worst,’ the captain 
replied with provoking calmness, ‘if you have a government, I 
flatter myself with possessing one too, and when it comes to com- 
paring the strength of the two, I am not so sure that you will 
win. But indeed, you must excuse me, for my presence is imper- 
atively needed on deck.’ 

“I heard him leave the cabin, and no sooner were the French- 
men alone, when the sounds of many “sacre !” “tonnere!” and 
other exclamations filled the air. Then they consulted a few mo- 
ments, and coming to the conclusion that a search under the 
present circumstances would be a mere farce, they also left the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


9 ? 

cabin to enter a solemn protest against what they called the cap- 
tain’s arbitrary conduct, and then to take their departure. On 
hearing their retreating footsteps I drew a deep breath of relief 
and when, fifteen minutes later, the captain released me from my 
confinement, I grasped his hand and in a torrent of professions, 
acknowledged my deep indebtedness. To this he shook his 
head. 

“ ‘You owe me nothing,’ he said ; Tor it isn’t altogether on your 
account that I run this risk. I owe }^our friend, the embassador, 
a heavy debt of gratitude, and it gives me sincere satisfaction to 
do a turn for him. So, if you feel under any obligations, acknow- 
ledge them to him. But tell me what these fellows mean with 
their charges ? Not that it is any of my business; but somehow 
I feel an interest in you on our friend’s account, and should like 
to befriend you to the extent of my ability. So, if you have no 
particular reason for secrecy, confide in me and enable me to ad- 
vise you properly.’ 

“Thus summoned I made a clean breast of my whole trouble 
and finally begged my new patron to tell me his opinion as to the 
course I had better pursue. He studied a while and said : 

u ‘It is an ugly scrape and no mistake, as to this political af- 
fair, why, it gives me little trouble, for our government surrenders 
no political offenders. But with the second charge the matter 
stands differently. If it should turn out correct that your bullet 
sent this prying cove to his last account, they might claim you 
on the charge of murder, and I wouldn’t be over-confident as to 
the result. If I were in your place I would give them the slip as 
soon as possible, and go for a while to America or some other 
foreign country. Indeed, my friend, that’s what I would do.’ 

“I thanked him for his advice, and asked him about the best 
mode of accomplishing that purpose. 

“ ‘Oh, as to that,’ he said; ‘there will be little difficulty. The 
German steamers touch at Southampton twice a week, and you 
can therefore easily secure a berth.’ 

“ ‘But they might telegraph my case and the authorities might, 
be on their guard,’ I suggested. 

“The captain nodded. 

“ ‘That is a fact,’ he said ; ‘but I tell you what we can do. Let 
7 


98 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


me see, this is Thursday, the very day the Bremen steamer leaves 
for New- York, She cannot well have been informed as to your 
case, and if we shift to the north-east, we can cross her course* 
and put you on board without creating suspicion.’ 

“ ‘But that would put you out of your own course,’ I inter- 
posed. 

“ ‘Well, supposing it does : where is the difference? I am not 
the man to do another a turn and then leave him in the midst of 
difficulties. I want to see you out of danger and if it costs me 
a week. Have you the means to pay for your passage?’ 

“To this I replied in the affirmative, and then, without the loss of 
another minute, the worthy captain began to carry out his plan. 
It is getting late, and I may as well finish my story by stating 
that luck favored the erterprise, and that I was speedily put on 
board the Bremen steamer, which carried me safely to the hos- 
pitable shores of the New World. The rest of my adventures is 
familiar to you. and now, since you know the cause of m} r mo- 
mentary dejection, we may as well lay down and try to snatch a 
nap. Come, let us go in.” 

“One moment,” said Schultze, who had listened with the 
greatest attention to his friend’s narrative. “Confidence begets 
confidence, and I cannot think of retiring to rest before I too 
have made you the confident of the one dark page, which I would 
gladly tear from the book of my life. Sit down and receive my 
short confession.” 

His voice was gloomy and oppressed, and when Miller saw the 
painful working of his features, he replied: 

“Nay, Schultze, you had better not tell me. I see it pains you, 
and I would rather hear nothing concerning your past, than 
cause you a momentary pang.” 

But Schultze shook his head. 

“It pains me to tell; but it pains me still more to keep silent. 
No, no, I want a confident; a confident too, who will judge me 
with friendly indulgence, and not cast me off on account of a 
weakness, which was but of short duration and has been deeply 
repented.” 

Miller preserved a respectful silence and Schultze continued : 

"“You must be aware from my accent that 1 hail from the north. 


THROUGH "BLOOD AND IRON. 


99 


I was born in Hanover, where my father, like yours, held a lucra- 
tive and responsible position. If you were lectured on your 
duty to southern institutions, I had the consciousness of the pri- 
vilege of being a subject of the glorious Guelf- family early and 
late instilled into my mind. Unlike }^ou, however, I was a ready 
learner, and when, in 1866, the struggle between Prussia and Aus- 
tria broke out, I embraced the cause of the latter with an ardor 
and enthusiasm generally foreign to the northern mind. Enter- 
ing the army as a volunteer I participated in the retreat from 
Hanover to Langensalza, and in the battle fought at the latter 
place. I could not help seeing the entire want of preparation 
and the deplorable deficiency of our troops ; but the vexation at 
the condition of our own affairs was a mild feeling, when com- 
pared with the intense hatred with which I looked upon our foe. 
I fought with the greatest desperation, as indeed did the whole 
army ; but although w'e gained a momentary advantage, we had 
finally to yield to greater numbers and superior management. I 
need not tell you that we were surrounded, captured and sent 
home on condition of giving the pledge not to serve any more 
during the war. You may easily imagine my rage at this condi- 
tion; for at that time I had not reached a stand-point sufficiently 
elevated to consider our apparent misfortune as a blessing in dis- 
guise.” 

“Well, at that I do not wonder,” said Miller; “nor need you 
blame yourself so very much for your infatuation. In fightings 
well and obstinately you only did your duty, and as a member of 
the Bavarian army, I should have done the same under similar 
circumstances.” 

“Yes, but that is not what I grieve for,” replied Schultze with 
a shake of his head. “Nobody could blame me for defending the 
cause of my state, although, with my present views, I might have 
taken a different course: what I mourn at, is my subsequent con- 
duct. Instead of complying with the stipulations of our sur- 
render, I listened to the insinuations of our exiled king* and 
escaping to France, joined the Hanoverian legion. By doing so ? 
I committed a double crime: I broke my pledge of honor and 
joined the epemies of Germany. Do you still wonder, that 1 
bury the past in the depths of my soul, and tremble to disclose 


100 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


it to a friend whose esteem I value? Tell me now that you des- 
pise me, and I only reap the natural consequences of my con- 
duct.” 

Miller was evidently moved by his friend’s contrition. He 
took his hand and said : 

“Fear nothing of the kind. Far as I am from approving or 
even excusing your mistake, I am the last person to condemn 
you. Where is the man so free from error, as to cast the stone 
at his brother? If } r ou failed, it was from motives of mistaken 
duty. I too wandered from the path of honor and obligation 
without even such an excuse. Let us then bear with one another’s 
failings, but at the same time form the resolution to atone for 
them by lending our hands and hearts to the common cause and 
march “ Through Blood and Iron ” to a new life and a nobler ca- 
reer !” 

“Through Blood and Iron!” repeated Schultze pressing the 
hand of his friend. Then rising, the two withdrew from the gar- 
den and in silence sought that slumber which was to give them 
new strength for a new struggle. 


CHAPTER X. 

While the army of the Crown-Prince was thus gathering lau- 
rels, the troops under Steinmetz had not been idle. If anything,, 
they had been too busy, for the removal of their veteran leader 
has generally been construed as a sign of royal displeasure at the 
recklessness, witn which the precious blood of Germany’s best 
sons, was spilt at Spichern. It has been alleged, that it was the 
intention of Moltkc to play the game of Gravellotte and Rezon- 
ville much nearer the border and by the feigned timidity of the 
German center draw the enemy into a deadly coil. The impetu- 
ous advance of Steinmetz is said to have spoiled these specula- 
tions; but however this may be, it cannot be denied that, at the 
Spichern heights, the German soldiers performed miracles of bra- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


101 


very. The world will forever look with astonishment upon the 
bold attempt to storm a range of hills so steep that the natural 
impediments alone offer obstacles by no means contemptible. 
But these hills were covered with artillery of the most fearful 
character. They were literally covered with the the flower of 
the French army, and it seemed sheer madness to make the at- 
tempt of carrying them. Yet they were carried. The victory 
was gained at a fearful cost, but it was gained, and the world 
which is apt to judge a measure by its results, burst out into a 
great shout of applause. 

The battle of Spichern drove the Frenchman from the frontier. 
It completed what the conflicts of Weissenburg and Woerth had 
commenced, and changed the aggressive party into the defensive 
one. It crippled even the defense, for, unable to hold the line of 
the Vosges against the victorious Germans, the French fell back 
upon the line of the Moselle and the strong fortress of Metz. 
There the world expected them to stop; but it was disappointed 
in this, as in many other things connected with this war. The 
beaten army rested only long enough to take a breath and cast a 
bewildered glance upon the situation. How strangely had a sin- 
gle week changed the aspect of affairs! Was this demoralized 
crowd the proud army whose only watchword had been the cry: 
“On to Berlin !” ? Where was McMahon with his southern divi- 
sions? Was his army annihilated, or, if not, in what direction 
did it flee before the pursuing foe? No tidings of its movements 
reached the ear of Bazaine, the French commander at Metz; but 
ominous rumors of the enemy’s appearance came thick and fast. 
The dreaded Uhlans showed themselves in every direction, at every 
place, and wrapped the movements of the German hosts in a mist 
at once dangerous and annoying. In this mist Frederic William 
advanced upon Nancy, took the town and continued his march 
upon Paris, throwing his light cavalry far in advance of his col- 
umns. The northern army under Steinmetz, meanwhile, marched 
directly over St. Avoid, Les Etangs and Le Chaussy against Metz, 
while the central and largest army pursued a parallel line on its 
left, heading for Pont-a-Mousson, where the cavalry made its ap- 
pearance as early as the 12th of August. 

The birth-day of Napoleon, the 15th, was now fast approach- 


■102 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ing,.and Bazaine, desirous of retrieving the sinking fortunes of 
his country, resolved to attack the Prussian vanguard on that 
very day. A victory, won under such circumstances, would not 
only shed lustre on himself, hut revive the brilliancy of his mas- 
ter’s waning star. He pushed a portion of his forces as far as 
Courcelles on the Nied, and would, no doubt, have executed his 
designs on the morning of the 15tli, if Steinmetz had not spoiled 
his calculations the day before. Gathering his batallions, as 
they came up, he hurled them against the strong position of the 
French in the densely wooded park of Pange, and stormed line 
after line, until the Prussians stood under the very glacis of the 
fortress. In this desperate struggle the French had first been 
reinforced by Ladmirault’s corps and afterwards by troops from 
almost every division ; but not only did these measures prove to 
be in vain; they also retarded the retreat of the whole army 
to Verdun over twenty-four hours. The unengaged troops stood 
all the while west of Metz, and awaited the order to march; but 
this order did not reach them before the evening of the 15th and 
the morning of the 16th. When it came, the marshal had no 
idea of the importance of this delay, nor of the momentous 
movements of the enemy which began to develop themselves a 
day later and finally threw him and his army back into Metz, 
there to remain amidst constant fighting and innumerable hard- 
ships up to the day which saw them all unconditional prisoners 
in the hands of the Germans. 

The French had advanced to the region of Mars-la-Tour, when 
they were suddenly and violently attacked by a few regiments of 
Prussian dragoons and cuirassiers. These troops formed the 
vanguard of the army of Frederic Charles, who had hurried in 
forced marches in a north-western direction with the bold inten- 
tion of cutting off Bazaine’s retreat to Verdun. The few light 
regiments were unsupported by infantry; yet they checked the 
advance of the French for three hours. The charges of these 
brave horsemen were truly terrific; but their own loss was in pro- 
portion to the injury inflicted. The French army which at first 
had marched on two routes, gradually concentrated around Mars- 
la-Tour, and poured a murderous fire upon their assailants. Mis- 
siles of every description decimated the ranks of the noble fel- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


103 


lows; but they never wavered, and held out until troops from 
Hanover, Schleswig-Holstein and other provinces arrived on the 
battle-field, and, by their timely succor, lent the conflict a some- 
what less desperate character. True, the Germans remained even 
then in the minority; but so successful was their fierce onset up- 
on the French that the Crown -Prince was enabled to telegraph 
to Berlin : “We drove the enemy into Metz after twelve hours’ 
desperate fighting.” 

The battle had been a bloody one; but, considering the fruits 
of the victory, it had not been purchased too dear. The princi- 
pal army of the French had been driven from its line of base by 
a German army greatly inferior in number. Still, while King 
William and his generals rejoiced at the achievement, they pre- 
pared for another and bloodier battle, for they knew full well that 
Bazaijie was not the man to give up without a last and desperate 
effort to break the tightening coil pf the German anaconda. Be- 
ing aware of the moral force of the assailant, they resolved to 
anticipate the attempt of the French marshal and to beat his 
hosts so thoroughly in a new and decisive battle, that nothing 
but a retreat into the walls of Metz would save them from des- 
truction. They pushed their columns to the north, to cut off the 
road to Thionville, and then, on the 18th of August, fought those 
memorable battles of Gravelotte, Rezonville, St. Marie, St. Pri- 
vat which shall forever live in the annals of history. The differ- 
ent German tribes rivalled in deeds of valor, and the Saxons who 
had been the last on the theater of war and thus far escaped the 
trying ordeal of the battle-field, proved then and there beyond 
the shadow of a doubt, that, if the last, they were far from being 
the least in the noble league which had drawn the sword for the 
realization of their dreams and wishes : the achievement of Ger- 
man Unity. 

The two armies were separated by a steep and narrow ravine, 
the French crest rising above the German one and thus facilita- 
ting the defense of their position. By this advantage they seemed 
determined to benefit, for on no other occasion in this war had 
they fought with the valor, the obstinacy, — yes, desperation, which 
they displayed at Gravelotte against a foe flushed with recent vic- 
tories. The ground was disputed inch by inch, and for several 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


104 

hours the Prussian leaders entertained grave doubts as to the 
issue of the conflict. Indeed few armies would have conquered 
under such desperate circumstances. Imagine the situation of 
the German army in case of defeat ! Cut off from its base, its 
condition would have been far more deplorable than that of its 
opponent, and total annihilation its certain destiny. Nor could 
so bold a manoeuvre have been undertaken with troops less tho- 
roughly disciplined* With these men the individual will had 
disappeared to substitute the command of the leader. When he 
ordered them to assault a position they carried it or perished in 
the attempt; when he commanded them to hold one, they obeyed 
the injunction, dead or alive. 

And yet even with such men the battle came near being lost. 
Night was approaching and the French batteries instead of reced- 
ing before the Prussian cannon, seemed to draw nearer to the 
head-quarters of King William. Anxiously did he look into the 
face of every new adjutant, as he galloped up to the spot and 
brought tidings of the progress of the battle. Darkness began 
to sink upon the region, before the longed-for news of “reinforce- 
ments coming !” reached the ear of the listening monarch. 
Moltke caught the words and spurring his horse, galloped toward 
the reserves so ardently desired, to point out to them the position 
he wished them to occupy. It was the right wing of the French 
on which thus far the Prussians had been incapable of making 
an impression. But now the tide turned. The fresh reserves 
succeeded in reaching the opposite brow of the ravine, and, once 
there, no resistance on the part of the French was able to stem 
their progress. The army of Bazaine withdrew from every po- 
sition which it had occupied in the morning, while the Germans 
in turn advanced their columns, exchanging an occasional can- 
non-shot as late as nine o’clock. After that time even these 
sounds died away and the French army stole back into the fort- 
ress with the mournful consciousness that their career was run, 
and that, if ever they were suffered to leave it, it would be merely 
to view and lament the suddenness and marvelous rapidity with 
which France had been hurled from a position proud and glori- 
ous; but not always honorable and just. 

The greatest and bloodiest, the boldest and most stupendous 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


105 


work which the records of war can exhibit had been achieved. 
The French army was cut off from all communication with the 
capital and the country ; it was shut up in a small city with 57,000 
inhabitants and reduced to the alternative of surrendering, of dy- 
ing on the battlefield, or succumbing to starvation. 




CHAPTER XI. 

While Frederic Charles and Steinmetz thus dealt heavy blows 
to the tottering empire, the army of the Crown-Prince had not 
been idle. Advancing in a south-western direction it took the 
fortresses of Lichtenberg and Lutzelstein, invested those of 
Pfalzburgh and Marsal, occupied Luneville and, on the 14th of 
August, appeared before Nancy, which, unable to defend itself, 
immediately complied with the summons to surrender. 

We hunt our friends, the American volunteers, and find them a 
couple of miles from Nancy, riding at the head of their company 
and indulging in a lively conversation. Their spirits seem to 
have revived from their recent depression, for their voices sound 
merry and a martial fire beams from their eye. No wonder! There 
is a certain something in war which stirs up the innermost depths 
of the human soul and which becomes doubly irresistible when 
glorious victories open the way into the heart of the hostile 
country. 

The jaegers share this spirit; they smoke, they chat, they sing 
and march with steps so bouyant, that one would think them 
bound for a gladsome frolic and not for the bloody conflict which 
the next hour may bring them. 

The road on which thejr marched was one of those excellent 
chaussees which traverse France in every direction. Though 
broad and smooth, it was in this instance taxed to its utmost 
capacity. Not only did troops of all classes cover it for miles, but 
vehicles of every description dived up from this sea of human 
heads. There were the “chaise” or buggy of the reporter or 
contractor, the covered wagon of the suttler; the endless trains 


106 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


belonging to the ambulance, the artillery, the telegraph, the 
commissariat. That this immense accumulation of heterogene- 
ous elements caused frequent and protracted stoppings, can 
cause no surprise, and, indeed, we are called upon to record 
such a stoppage a few minutes after rejoining our friends. There 
was a perfect medley of wagons right in front of the company ; 
in fact, two or three of them had become so wedged in and en- 
tangled, as to cause the delay mentioned. The soldiers stopped 
their conversation and listened with evident amusement to the 
vociferous demonstration with which some of the number hur- 
led forth their accusations and others repelled the charges. At 
length these oral demonstrations treatened to assume so palpable 
a character that Miller thought proper to interfere. Riding up 
to the scene of confusion, he addressed the quarreling parties 
with that resolute tone of authority which generally commands 
attention. They turned to him and were on the point of inundat- 
ing him with their explanations, when he stopped them short, 
saying : 

“Never mind that now, for I have no time to listen. Let us 
rather see, where the trouble lies: This is your wagon, is it? 
Very well, Sir, why don’t you back a little? Don’t you see, that 
the wheels are locked?” 

“I know, but then he had no bussiness to drive into my road.” 

“Perhaps he hadn’t; but that is not the question now. Back 
at once, I tell you, or I shall be compelled to report you at head- 
quarters.” 

The fellow grumbled, but thought best to comply with the 
injunction, and a fe w minutes later the jumble was^unravelecl and 
the train in motion. Miller was on the point of returning to his 
men, when a strange looking figure on one of the wagons attrac- 
ted his attention and chained him to the' spot. It was a middle, 
•aged woman, sitting on a bundle of straw and attired in the 
queerest manner possible. Her dress was of heavy silk, but 
soiled all over and torn to such a degree, as to cause the shreds 
to hang down on all sides. She wore one of the hats which the 
fashion of the day dictated, ridiculously small, but overladen with 
feathers and spangles. The hat, like the dress, showed the 
richest and dearest material, but it had been knocked into so 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


107 


many . shapes by the ruthless hand of war that it gave the woman 
a rather ridiculous aspect. 

In addition to this she wore ringlets which in truth had lost 
all claims to that name, and hung like so many wliip-cords around 
a sharp-cut, distracted looking face. On her lap she held two pets, 
a crabbed poodle which barked and snarled at every-body and a 
cat of monstrous size, that evidently viewed matters with a sus- 
picious e} r e and, by her curved back, betrayed her readiness to 
repel hostile invasions. The woman seemed to be ill at ease, for 
her sharp, shrill voice mingled with the barking of the dog> 
greatly to the amusement of the spectators who either grinned 
or laughed aloud, and by their bantering remarks in no wise in- 
creased the comfort of the woman. ' 

“Go ahead steamboat!” cried a sturdy sutler in German. “You 
and your poodle manage the thing splendidly.” 

“’T is a fine concert, considerin’ she don’t charge anything,” 
said another. 

“Yes, but her fiddle squeals a little,” joined in a third. “If I 
were in her case, I’d grease my bow.” 

At this moment Miller thought it proper to interfere. 

“Shame on you, men!” he cried. “Can you do nothing better 
than tease a poor helpless woman? Don’t mind them, madam, 
and tell me what you want.” 

“Mais je ne vous comprends pas, Monsieur: Ne parlez-vous pas 
Francais?” 

“Why, yes, I do,” said Miller dropping his German and reply- 
ing in French. “I speak French and shall be happy to render 
you any assistance in my power.” 

“Oh thousand thanks, Monsieur,” replied the woman, her coun- 
tenance brightening considerably. “I am only too happy to bene- 
fit by your offer. I have been trying in vain to make these fel- 
lows understand that I want to alight. A short distance from 
here is my brother’s house which I am anxious to reach; but 
without your assistance these barbarians would have carried me 
on, heaven knows how far. But will you tell the driver to stop, 
Monsieur? We are passing the place and I fear to lose sight of 
it.” 

Miller complied with her desire and soon the dame stood on 


108 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


the ground, holding her pets in her arms. However, her step was 
tottering, and the glance she cast around so full of embarrass- 
ment and consternation that Miller felt pity and volunteered to 
act as her guide. He dismounted and giving his horse in charge 
of a soldier, conducted the woman from the chaussee to a coun- 
try road, which, as she said, led to her brother’s residence. She 
was profuse in her protestations of gratitude, and her expressions 
were so well chosen and her manners so polite, that Miller soon 
discovered her to be of higher birth than her tattered dress and 
helpless condition seemed to warrant. He could not abstain 
from asking her how she got into such a straight, and no sooner 
was the question uttered than she launched into a voluminous 
explanation. 

“Ah, monsieur,” she cried, “it was a horrible affair, I assure 
you. It must be a week now, when that dreadful battle began; 
or more than that, for all I know; you see these terrible things 
have slightly confused my mind. Our house was all in commo- 
tion. The marshal (we had the honor of entertaining the Duke 
of Malakoff) the marshal, I say, mounted his horse and rode 
away, followed by his adjutants. My brother and nephew had 
left the day before, so that we women were all alone. True, at 
first, the usual sentinels guarded the house; but after a while* 
when the battle drew nearer, they disappeared and left us to our- 
selves. I was dreadfully afraid I assure you, and advised my 
niece to seek safety in the cellar; but she refused to listen and 
said she would order Jean to get the carriage ready and take us 
to a place of greater safety. So she went out, promising to re- 
turn at once; but no sooner had she disappeared than a big bomb- 
shell struck the villa and exploded in the next chamber. I gave 
a loud scream and thought myself lost; but when, a few moments 
later, I found myself alive and unhurt, I ran with trembling steps 
to the cellar-door. There I stopped a minute and called my niece 
as loud as I could. Nobody answered, however, and when at 
that moment, a second shell struck the building, I hesitated no 
longer, but, descending the flight of stairs before me, sought the 
safer regions of the cellar-vaults. There I remained all da}^, 
wavering between the desire of learning the fate of my niece and 
the fear of being killed by one of the dreadful missiles which 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 109 

struck the house every five minutes or so. Ah, monsieur! it was 
a dreadful day, I assure you.” 

“I do not doubt it, Madam. But you left the cellar in the 
evening, did you not ?” 

“No, monsieur, 1 remained there all night and also the follow 
ing day. On descending I had shut the door after me, forgetting 
that the key was on the outside and that there was no other 
outlet from the cellar. Imagine my horror, when I found myself 
thus imprisoned, with the prospect of the vaults becoming my 
tomb. 1 pressed against the door with all my might; I cried for 
help with all my might; but voice and strength failed me after 
the first effort, and I swooned away, to remain in that condition, 
I do not know, how long, and to regain my consciousness 
only to find myself in utter darkness and a cold, moist atmos- 
phere which chilled me to the bone.” 

“Poor woman!” 

“All! monsieur, you may well pity me! I would sooner die, 
than pass another night like that. It was so dark that I feared 
to descend the stairs and hunt a better place to spend the night. 
Nor would such a step have benefited me much ; for the vault 
was as damp and cold in one place, as in another, and as I 
lacked the necessary garments to keep myself warm, it mattered 
little, where the icy air shook my frail limbs. To heighten my 
horror, innumerable rats and mice selected the stairs and some- 
times my person for their rendez-vous. At first I screamed, 
when I heard or felt one, for I had always entertained a great 
disgust for every kind of vermin, but gradually I became insen- 
sible even to this nauseous annoyance, sinking into an apathy 
from which only the returning light of da} r aroused me in a 
measure. As soon as I could see, I renewed my effortsjto escape 
from my prison. Finding that the door could not be forced, I 
examined the whole cellar with the idle hope of discovering 
an outlet through which I might escape. True I found another 
door, a trap-door, which opened into one of the court-yards of 
the villa; but it was more securely locked than the other, a strong 
padlock guarding the entrance on the outside. Still, as this door 
was nearer the open air, and as my cries for help would be more 
apt to attract attention, I chose one of the steps as my head-quar* 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


110 


ters, leaving it only on such errands, as hunger and other wants 
occasioned. Fortunately I found an abundance of wine and 
victuals in the cellar, a circumstance to which I owe my preser- 
vation in a double sense, for besides satisfying my appetite these 
supplies finally attracted the men, who broke my prison door. 
Not that my deliverance had given them much satisfaction : on 
the contrar}^, the men cursed me abundantly and seemed half 
inclined to finish with their hands the work, which exposure had 
commenced. They came with the evident intention of stealing 
the provisions of their former master, and now telerated with 
reluctance a person, who might bear witness against them on a 
future day of reckoning.’ , 

“That does not speak very highly for French servants,” 

“I am ill-prepared to advocate their cause. Of all the beings 
of the house and village who had once enjoyed our fostering 
care, a brute alone evinced symptoms of that attachment which 
I imagined to have gained by my deportment.” 

“A brute, you say, madam?” 

“Yes, monsieur, a brute. Look at this dog. When I stepped 
upon the yard, Ponto, my poodle, alone betrayed his pleasure at 
seeing me by barking, jumping and wagging his tail.” 

Miller smiled. 

“I am glad to see him capable of such redeeming sentiments,” 
he said. “His feelings for the rest of mankind do not seem to 
be the very friendliest.” 

“Is it a wonder? Ponto is intelligent. He sees the fickleness 
of the human race, and hates it for his mistress’ sake.” 

“Perhaps he does; but this cat, madam: is she also the happy 
owner of such exalted feelings?” 

“Why, no, monsieur,” the spinster replied somewhat hesita- 
tingly. “I am sorry to say that I found this cat incapable of ri- 
sing to Ponto’ s virtue. She resisted my attempt to remove her 
from the villa to the utmost of her power.” 

“And yet you insisted upon taking her?” 

“I did, Monsieur. Are we not taught to disregard ingratitude 
in regulating our own course?” 

“I admire your principles,” said Mi’ler, inwardly amused. “I 
wonder ho longer at PontoY sentiments, with such an example 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. Ill 

constantly before his eyes; but I am doubty surprised at Pussy’s 
shortcomings.” 

The old lady seemed somewhat at a loss how to take his words ; 
for the side glance which she cast at him was rather suspicious. 
At this moment, however, the pair turned a corner and came in 
sight of a house which the lady declared to be her brother’s re- 
sidence. In consequence of this discovery, joy and gratitude 
drove every other thought from her mind, and made her clamor- 
ous in her desire of introducing her companion to her friends as 
one, who, though a Prussian, had assisted her in her trials. In 
vain did Miller protest and declare that duty called him to his 
company : she promised to detain him only a minute and then to 
release him with a promise to renew his visit at his leisure. Say 
what he would, he had to enter the premises and become an in- 
different spectator of a family-reunion in which he expected to 
see the ludicrous exceed the pathetic. 

He rang the bell at the request of the spinster, and awaited 
with commendable patience the result of the measure, when all 
at once the door was opened and a young lady made her appear- 
ance whose aspect changed Miller from an indifferent into an in- 
terested spectator. The young lady was evidently not prepared 
for the arrival of the spinster, for she looked at her with an in- 
quiring glance which seemed to ask the question : 

“Well madam, what is it? What can I do for you?” 

The spinster, on the other hand, had no sooner discovered the 
girl, than she dropped both Ponto and Pussy, and, with out 
stretched arms hastened to embrace her. 

“Pauline!” she cried. “Oh my dear Pauline! You are alive! 
you are safe! I hold you again in my arms! I am paid for all 
my troubles, indeed they are Already forgotten!” 

The young lady was at first like one stupified on seeing herself 
thus suddenly overwhelmed with caresses; but a second was suf- 
ficient to set her right and then she returned the spinster’s em- 
brace and said : 

“Is it possible ! Aunt Aspasia! So you were not killed in that 
dreadful battle, as I was forced to imagine to my great sorrow?” 

“No, child, not quite, thanks to my excellent nerves. True, I 
went through trials, ‘severe, enough to kill a dozen common wo- 


112 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


men. Still I came out alive, you see, thanks to my good consti- 
tution and the assistance of a few friends, wdiom Providence 
raised up for me amongst the enemies of our country. This 
gentlemen is one of them, Pauline. Allow me to introduce him 
to your favor. Your name, Monsieur ?” 

But Monsieur did not hear. From the moment of the girls’ 
first appearance, his eyes had not only been riveted upon her 
form, but his whole person had fallen prey to considerable excite- 
ment. And the girl? She had the disadvantage of noticing 
after being noticed, for to such a degree had the meeting with 
her aunt chained her attention, that she never turned to Miller, 
until the spinster made an attempt at introducing the two to one 
another. Then recognition flashed like lightning through her 
mind, and so much was she benefited by that tact which generally 
guides woman in emergencies that she recovered her self-control 
even before the officer. True, a burning red continued to cover 
her countenance, but her voice was quiet with only a slight touch 
of sarcasm, when she replied in his place: 

“Monsieur Miller, lieutenant with the Bavarian jaegers.” 

Miss Dupre — for as such we have reognized long ago — was 
greatly startled, and displayed her surprise in so undisguised a 
manner, that Pauline broke into a merry laugh. Miller also 
regained his composure and would have joined in the merriment, 
if the respect for the old lady had not prevented him. 

“And you actually know this gentleman ?” Mademoiselle 
Aspasia finally managed to utter. 

“Well, so much the better: that facilitates my task Monsieur 
Lieutenant, allow me to introduce to you — ” 

“Miss Pauline Delmont, maid of honor to Her Majecty the 
Empress,” interrupted Miller as gravely as he could. 

This was too much for the spinster. She was so astounded at 
this sudden revelation that she overlooked the flight of Pussy 
who had made her escape through the open door, as well as 
Ponto’s constant attempts upon Miller’s calves, against which 
our friend could only defend himself by an occasional well-direc- 
ted kick. The spinster looked at them in turn with such a comic 
despair that Miller took pity on her and said: 

“Isat so marvelous, Madame, that your niece and I should 






■ 













































■ 



















✓ 




Foraging Uhlans, 




THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


113 


know each other ? Not that I claim this acquaintance. In fact, 

I have reason to imagine my presence very unacceptable to her, 
and would not have ventured upon this liberty, if she had not 
set me an example. I assure you that I was entirely unprepared 
to meet you here,” he continued, turning to Miss Delmont; “or I 
might have been less quick to accept your aunt’s invitation. Let 
me atone for my presumption by the immediate withdrawal of a 
person so obnoxious to you.” 

“As to you, madam,” he continued, returning to Miss Dupre; 
“allow me to express my hope that this adventure will be without 
evil consequences both for you and your pets, and that an early 
peace will find you a happy trio, reaping the full reward of your 
virtues and your sufferings.” 

Perhaps he was unconscious of the irony contained in his words; 
but Pauline was not. She seemed to feel that vexation at her re- 
cent conduct had dictated his words ; yet she remained silent un- 
til he raised his cap and, with a bow, prepared to leave the house. 
Then at last she stepped forward and said with a comical vexa- 
tion which Miller thought very charming : 

“So that is the way you want to crush us with the load of our 
obligations? I perceive you want to imitate the strategy of Mon- 
sieur Moltke ; but what may be great in a general , need by no 
means be amiable in a lieutenant .” 

“Amiable,” repeated Miller, half vexed, half amused. “I was 
not aware that I had laid any claims to amiability.” 

“So much the worse for you. It surely shows a great lack of 
that desirable quality to render so difficult the attempt of a silly 
young lady to atone for a past offence, an offence moreover which 
time and circumstances surely ought to extenuate.” 

“But I do not comprehend — ” retorted Miller in great astonish- 
ment. 

“Another proof of the correctness of my assertion. Would an 
amiable young man desire to comprehend, when a young lady 
finds such difficulty in explaining? Would he not rather attempt 
to forget the past and now receive a double portion of thanks for 
double services rendered?” 

“Oh, well ! if that is all that’s necessary to establish my claim 
8 


114 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

to amiability, I shall at once be amiable in the highest degree- 
imaginable.” 

“Ah! that sounds differently. Monsieur le lieutenant is not 
incorrigible. Will he please enter this room and take a seat? 1^ 
would surely not be polite in us to keep Aunt Aspasia standing 
here, with both heart and knees trembling, the former with im- 
patience to divulge her strange adventures, the latter with fatigue 
contracted in these very adventures. En avant! en avant !” 

Miss Aspasia seemed to be very well pleased with this turn of 
affairs, and beckoning to Miller she said: 

“We may as well obey, Sir; for she has always had her own 
way, and is not likely to suffer a disappointment this time. En- 
trous, monsieur, entrous!” 

They entered the room, minus Ponto, who by this time had 
learned to understand the German which Miller had spoken with 
his boots. The haste of our worthy volunteer seemed to have 
greatly diminished ; for when Aunt Aspasia invited him to sit 
down and then launched into a long-winded account of all the 
adventures through which she had passed, he betrayed no sign 
of impatience whatever. Perhaps we can account for this by the 
fact that his eyes looked upon the niece , while his ears listened 
to the aunt . Pauline, however, was much less patient. She 
made several attempts to interrupt the narrator, and at last merely 
gave it up because she despaired of success. Finally, when Aunt 
Aspasia had safely arrived at the mansion, the young lady man- 
aged to put in the question : 

“And the others, Aunty: where are they ?” 

“The others?” the spinster retorted with great surprise. “They 
are not with you, then? I was wondering why they hesitated so 
long to meet me.” 

“No, Aunt, I am alone, and thought you would surely bring 
me some news concerning them. You know nothing of Uncle 
Hercules?” 

“How should I ? You forget that he left the day before the 
battle for his arrondissement.” 

“True enough, and so did Achilles.” 

“Yes, poor boy!” said Aspasia, with a sigh. “What may have 
become of him?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


115 


“Oh, never mind Achilles!” said Pauline, somewhat disdain- 
fully. “Depend upon it, Aunty, he will always manage to take 
care of Number One. No, if I fear for any one, it is for my 
brother Victor. Poor boy! his dreams of glory have been of 
very short duration.” 

“They may revive, Pauline; indeed I am sure they will.” 

“We must hope for the best, Aunty. At present, however, I 
would be satisfied to receive the assurance of his being alive and 
well. But I have a foreboding which tells me the contrary. Vic- 
tor was so rash and daring: who knows but a hostile bullet has 
laid him low, and deprived us even of the knowledge of his bur- 
ial-place and the comfort of praying at his grave.” 

Tears stood in the eyes of the girl, and Miller, fearing to im- 
pede by his presence the further exchange of confidential com- 
munications, arose to leave. The ladies once more assured him 
of their gratitude, and then exacted from him the promise of an- 
other visit, provided the troops remained sufficiently long in 
Nancy to allow such a digression. 

When Schultze met his friend the first time after this encoun- 
ter, he thought he discovered in his eyes the light of former days. 
When he inquired the cause, Miller put on a very mysterious 
air and said : 

“Can you accompany me to-night on a visit to the suburbs?” 

“A question for a question : is that fair? But supposing I said 
yes : what then?” 

“Then I should answer: get ready, by all means; for in the 
suburbs I shall answer your inquiry.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

Nancy is a beautiful town of about 50,000 inhabitants. It re- 
sembles Leipsic in its extension, its comfortable abundance, its 
rural suburbs and its numerous public buildings; but the con- 
struction of its houses, the flat roofs, the frequent appeal ance of 


116 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


the walnut, the chestnut, the locust tree and grape-vine betray 
the more southern clime* 

Nancy was formerly a German town like Metz and Strasburg; 
but its inhabitants showed themselves more hostile to their for- 
mer countrymen and present conquerors, than the genuine French. 
Although the three journals of the town received full liberty to 
issue their papers, they instantly closed their establishments. The 
inhabitants either observed a sinister and stubborn silence, or 
they presumed upon the patience of their visitors by uttering the 
most abusive language* Being prevented from drawing the sword, 
they took hold of the needle, and inflicted stings where more se- 
rious injuries were denied them. 

Nevertheless the German army had managed to make itself at 
home. Our two volunteers had quartered themselves in the sec- 
ond story of a good hotel, while Haller had taken up his abode 
in a room below. The two friends had partaken of a good din 
ner and now looked from the open window, smoking a cigar and 
exchanging remarks concerning the town and its people. All at 
once Schultze touched his neighbor’s arm and said in an under- 
tone: 

“Look at that fellow across* He looks at us, as if he meant to 
swallow us. There now, you are too late. When he saw you 
turn your head, he shrank back from the window. I wonder 
whether he knows you.” 

“Hardly, August. I never was in Nancy before.” 

“Then why should he hide from you.” 

“That’s hard to tell. Perhaps he was ashamed of his impudent 
curiosity.” 

At this moment martial music sounded from the end of the 
street, and when our friends looked in that direction they noti- 
ced a regiment of infantry coming towards them with banners 
flying and marching to the time of the warlike strain. This at- 
tractive spectacle proved too much for the spiteful indifference of 
the town-folks, and head after head peeped from the windows of 
the street, until at last every house contributed its participators 
in the lively scene. Just as the band marched abreast the hotel, 
Schultze again elbowed his friend in a stealthy manner, and whis- 
pered : 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


117 


‘‘There he is again: look up, but guardedly.” 

Miller followed the hint and perceived a head in the opposite 
window which watched him with jealous care, while all’other eyes 
were turned towards the pageant below. No sooner, however, did 
the person see himself observed when he too dropped his glance, 
and seemed to become as attentive a spectator as his neighbors. 

Miller began to reflect. Had he seen the face before? He 
thought so. But where? That puzzled him. He retired from 
the window and took a position from which he could see without 
being seen himself. Then arming his eye with au opera-glass, 
which he carried for military purposes, he looked steadily across 
and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the suspicious head at the 
window again. The eyes looked towards the hotel as before and 
no sooner had Miller cast a careful glance at them through the 
glass when he started up and exclaimed: 

“Schultze, you were right after all. That lellow knows me, 
and I know him. You recollect, I told you about a man, who 
set the police-officer on my track at Havre?” 

“I do, Sir; and that chap across — ” 

“Is the self-same man.” 

Schultze laughed. 

“Well, circumstances alter cases” he said. “The eye of the 
basilisk has become harmless. Let the fellow stare to his heart’s 
content.” 

“Still, I should like to know where to put him. I must surely 
have met him in Paris, if I only knew where.” 

“Well, Robert, I see nothing to keep you from finding out. 
What hinders you from paying the fellow a visit?” 

“You would not want me to break nolens, volens into a peace- 
ful house?” 

“Peaceful indeed! I bet you the inmates of that house are no 
better than the rest. But you need not “ break in ” as you call 
it. Why not knock and ask admittance in the politest voice 
imaginable?” 

Miller reflected a moment; then springing up, he said: 

“You are right, August. Let us make the attempt at all 
events. This surveillance annoys me, harmless, as much it is.” 

The two hastened down stairs and across the street. Ascend- 


118 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


in g the steps before the house in question, they rang the bell, 
but had to repeat the signal and moreover wait five minutes 
before steps became audible within and the door was opened by a 
woman. On seeing the hostile uniforms she shrank back and 
would have shut the door in the face of the visitors, if they had 
not prevented this by a forcible demonstration. 

“Excuse our call” said Miller in French “and be assured that 
we mean nothing evil. I saw the face of a gentleman up stairs, 
with whom I am acquainted. I would thank you for showing us 
the way to his room.” 

“A gentleman up stairs?” the woman responded. “Monsieur 
must be mistaken. We have no gentleman up stairs in this 
house.” 

“But we are positive; we have both seen the person in 
question.” 

“It cannot be! You must have mistaken the house; for there 
is nobody up stairs in this building.” 

Miller was at a loss, how to proceed; but Schultze soon drew 
him from this dilemma. 

“Mille tonners! Kreutz-Donnerwetter !” he exclaimed, mixing 
his French and German. “Old lady, do you think, you can lead 
us by the nose, par le nez. Our eyes are better than yours any 
day, and if you refuse to lead us, we shall have to be our own 
guides. Yoi la tout.” 

The woman seemed to understand this mixture better than 
Miller’s polite and perfect French; for she shrank back and 
invited the officers to step in. She declared herself ready to 
take them up stairs, but they would find her statement correct 
and the upper story empty. Her words were cut short by 
Schultze’s imperative “allons done! montous, s’il vous plait,” 
and seeing further remonstrances useless, she ascended the stairs, 
closely followed by the two Germans. She opened the doors of 
the front rooms, which were indeed found empty, and afterwards, 
on demand, those of the back rooms also with no better result. 
The woman assumed an injured mien. 

“Did I not tell you, Messieurs?” she exclaimed with a scornful 
admixture in her voice. 

“You did indeed” retorted Schultze, who chafed under the idea 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


119 


of being beaten by a woman, “but if you hadn’t been so slow to 
admit us, the search might have turned out very different* We 
leave you, Madam, to enjoy your triumph; but we kindly advise 
you to exhort your invisible lodger not to pry too deeply into 
our affairs* We are somewhat ticklish in such matters.” 

“You oughtn’t to have been so hard on her” said Miller on reach- 
ing the street. “Perhaps she was really ignorant of the fellow’s 
presence.” 

“Pshaw! don’t you believe it! These women are worse than 
the men. They know they are beaten, but refuse to accept the 
situation. I have seen some of them rave like maniacs, presum- 
ing boldly upon the privileges of their sex. If they want to be 
treated as ladies, let them behave as such. If a man insults me, 
I knock him down: against a woman I have no remedy. I have 
seen them spit upon our men and go out free.” 

“Well, August, by doing so they degrade themselves, not us, 
As to the woman in yon house, you could hardly expect her to 
take our part against her countryman.” 

“No, no, I do not blame her much. Only I thought best to 
leave a warning for your benevolent friend* If he pokes his 
nose into your affairs, he shall have it flattened in the most ap- 
proved style, depend upon it.” 

The rest of the afternoon passed rapidly away, and no sooner 
had the two friends taken their supper and secured the necessary 
furlough, when Miller invited Schultze to accompany him on the 
meditated excursion. It w$s after seven o’clock when they left 
the hotel; but, as the days were long then, the light had in no 
way abated. They walked through the town and the suburbs un- 
til they reached the bridge which leads across the Meurthe. Af- 
ter passing the bridge, they turned to the right and followed the 
road which leads to the village of Tomblaine. It was a beauti- 
ful evening. The fine chausee, the winding river, the changing 
fields interspersed with villas: everything combined to make the 
walk a delightful one. Yet the two wanderers were not in the 
mood to enjoy it. While Miller anticipated the greater pleasures 
of the impending rendez-vous, Schultze was pondering on the 
character of the revelations which his friend had promised him. 
They smoked the unavoidable cigar with greater reticence than 


120 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ever, and only ceased when Miller stopped at the garden-gate of 
Monsieur Hercules Dupre, and told Schultze that the next five 
minutes would reveal to him the cause of the change which he 
imagined to have noticed in his friend. Schultze merely nodded? 
and readily followed him to the front door which was at once 
opened in obedience to the ringing of the bell. A servant con- 
ducted them to the parlor, where they found themselves vis-a-vis 
to a young lady in whom Schultze at once recognized their pro- 
tegee against the encroachments of the Turcos near Froschweiler. 

He glanced at Miller and smiled, as if he meant to say: “I 
thought as much.” Then bowing to the lady, he said: 

“Miss Delmont, if I am not mistaken.” 

“Your servant, Monsieur; and in you I see Monsieur le lieuten- 
ant de Schultze?” 

“Schultze without the “eZe,” madam. The Schultzes are too 
numerous for such aspirations.” 

“Eh bien, Monsieur Schultze, asseyez-vous ! sit dowh then, 
Aunt Aspasia, this is Monsieur Schultze. Monsieur Schultze, ma 
tante, Mademoiselle Aspasia Dupre.” 

Schultze bowed with all the grace at his disposal. The old 
lady of course did likewise; but she seemed to be both startled 
and alarmed at Pauline’s extensive acquaintances in the German 
army. 

“I am happy to make monsieur’s acquaintance,” she said ; “but 
how does it happen that you know him ? It is rather strange 
that you should know so many of our country’s enemies.” 

“It is strange, aunty; and indeed I struggled against my fate, 
as these gentlemen can testify/ They rendered me an important 
service some time ago, and as a recompense I repelled them by 
my rudeness. My conduct pained me deeply at the time, and 
has been a source of regret ever since; but I persuaded myself 
that the cause of my country demanded a sacrifice and that I 
must not see the enemies of France in the light of personal friends. 
I thought I had succeeded, Aunty, until your arrival this morning 
undeceived me. If I am wrong, you share the blame; also, why 
must you bring into my presence as your benefactor the ver} r man 
to whom I am myself so deeply indebted.” 

She said this half seriously, half jokingly, in a manner truly 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


121 


captivating, and when, immediately afterwards, she begged her 
guests to excuse the rudeness with which she had kept them 
standing so long, and to accept a seat for a good long visit, they 
were glad enough to comply with her request and to forget, for a 
while, in the happiest conversation with this fair daughter of 
France, the bloody conflict with her sons. Both parties endeavored 
to exclude all topics which might lead to a disturbance of this 
harmonious intercourse; but in spite of their resolve such topics 
would crowd themselves into their thoughts. “Of what the heart 
is full, the lips flow over,” is a true German proverb, and so we 
need not wonder that its truth was proved on this occasion. The 
ladies would now and then suffer a reproach to escape their lips, 
and the men say a few words in defense of the cause for which 
they fought; but accusation and defense were free from that bit- 
terness which alienates instead of unites. The evening passed 
rapidly, and when the two visitors rose to take their leave, dark- 
ness had taken the place of the twilight by means of which they 
had readily found their way. 

“It is late,” said Miss Delmont, gazing through the door into 
the increasing gloom. “Will you be able to find your way?” 

“Without any trouble, madam. We soldiers learn to find our 
way by day and night.” 

“You have shown at least your skill in finding your way to the 
very heart of France. So } 7 ou apprehend no danger? There are 
many Frenchmen fanatical enough to slay you in the dark, pro- 
vided they could do so with impunity.” 

“What you say, is not very flattering to your countrymen.” 

“There are bad elements in every nation; but I am wrong in 
thus detaining you. It is growing darker every minute, and un- 
less you prefer to remain our guests over-night — ” 

“We could not think of that as duty calls us to our posts.” 

“Then you had better go at once, for I cannot help thinking 
that some evil will befal you on the way. I may be foolish in 
talking thus, but I cannot help it, and you must promise to show 
yourselves before you leave Nancy, if it were only to convince 
me that my fears were groundless.” 

“You are ver} r kind, Miss Delmont,” said Miller, the ardor of 


122 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


his eyes and the pressure of his hand showing that he meant 
what he said. “You may depend upon it that we shall not fail to 
obey an injunction which is so much in keeping with our own 
inclinations.” 

A few more words of farewell, and the two stood in the gloom 
of a clouded night-sky. The heat of the day had called up a 
storm, which heavy blasts and scattered raindrops were on the 
point of ushering in. Our friends had passed through too many 
tempests in both hemispheres not to read these symptoms aright. 

“That looks squally,” said Schultze. “I should not wonder if 
we would have a regular hurricane before many minutes. Come, 
friend, let us bestir ourselves, or we shall be wet to the skin be- 
fore we reach our quarters.” 

They struck out accordingly; but before they were half-way 
through the narrow lane which ran from Dupre’s estate to the 
main road, a fiery lightning flash darted across the sky whose 
suddenness brought the wanderers to a momentary stop. 

“I thought as much,” said Schultze; “now double quick, I tell 
you.” 

“Wait a moment,” exclaimed Miller; “there is something at 
my heels whose nature I must first examine. Auch ! you nasty 
creature! I really think it is the ugly poodle of Miss Aspasia.” 

“Did he bite you? Well, let him alone, then. We have no 
time to trouble ourselves with crabbed poodles.” 

On they went, the flashes becoming more frequent every min- 
ute, and heavy claps of thunder betraying the rapid approach of 
the tempest. It was so dark now, that they had to grope their 
way, assisted by the flashes which, for a moment, shed a brilliant 
light on the benighted region. By means of this light they had 
traversed the greater portion of the lane, and congratulated them- 
selves on the prospective relief of the chaussee, when all at once 
a flash of unusual brightness nearly blinded their eyes and, by 
the accompanying concussion, showed them that a tree in their 
immediate neighborhood had been struck. Again they stopped 
looking at the work of destruction which endless flashes of a less 
violent nature kept constantly in view. Take in addition to this 
the roaring wind, the gushing rain and an occasional howl on the 
part of the dog, and you will confess that our imagination is ca- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


123 


pable of creating more pleasant scenes than that through which 
our volunteers were condemned to pass. 

The worst, however, was yet to come. The two friends were 
still gazing at the burning tree, comparing, perhaps, in their mind 
the destructive force of man with the more fearful power of the 
unchained elements, when all at once the crack of the rifle min- 
gled with the deeper growl of thunder, and a bullet passed so 
close by Miller’s head that it cut the strap which passed from the 
cap around his chin to secure it from the fury of the wind. 
Away the cap went and a moment later a mass of auburn curls 
flew around his head, adding to the bewilderment into which this 
sudden attack had plunged him. He was still striving to free his 
eyes from the obstructing hair, when Schultze’s voice struck his 
ear. 

“Down with you, Robert !” he cried. “Take to cover or the 
rascals will take better aim the next time.” 

These words were backed by a powerful grip around his arm, 
and when Miller came to his senses he found himself crouching 
in the corner of a fence. 

“St!” warned Schultze. “They must not know where we are, 
while we, on the other hand, must try to learn their number and 
position.” 

“So we must. I declare, this sudden attack has quite bewild- 
ered me. I feel even now as in a dream.” 

“You have been in one for several hours, I fear,” said Schultze 
with a noiseless laugh; “but now I advise you to wake up, or your 
chances of seeing this syren again are slim indeed.” 

“Why, August, you do not mean to insinuate — ” 

“Just now I insinuate nothing but the propriety of getting out 
of this scrape. Listen! the poodle is on their scent. Wouldn’t 
it be funny if the dog should help us to track the master.” 

These remarks seemed to intimate that Schultze believed that 
Miss Delmont was implicated in this attack; but although Mil- 
ler repelled this thought with indignation, he remained silent, 
deeming time and place poorly adapted for argumentation. As 
to the dog, Schultze was evidently right. The animal kept up a 
furious and incessant bark, and guided by the sound of its voice, 
the two officers .crept along the fence in order to gain the number 


124 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


and position of tlieir foes. Suddenly Schultze touched Miller’s 
shoulder and whispered : 

“There they are! Get your revolver ready for a charge.” 

Miller obeyed and peered into the darkness to catch a glimpse 
of the enemy, when Schultze all at once jumped up with a curse, 
and discharged his revolver. His friend also sprung to his feet, 
and in the occasional illumination of the flashes the two could see 
how a dark figure made his way through the garden with a velo- 
city which not only defied pursuit but also betrayed a perfect fa- 
miliarity with the nature of the ground. 

“Confound the rascal !” muttered Schultze, whose temper the 
weather and the attack had evidently soured. “A minute sooner 
and my revolver would have stopped the fellow and compelled 
him to show his colors. I’d give my little finger to see into this 
affair.” 

“So would I, August; though for different reasons. If we 
knew all, you would see that your suspicion is totally unfounded.’’ 

“Maybe — may be not. But never mind my suspicion now ; 
what I know is, that I am heartily tired of all adventures which 
taste after romance. The deuce take all assassins, syrens and 
storms like this. Come, friend, let’s wheel for home. I’m wet 
to the skin already,” 

“I’m sorry that I was the innocent cause of so much annoy- 
ance,” said Miller with a touch of vexation. 

“Who cares for that?” cried Schultze. “’Tis only for you I 
care. You are so soft to-night that I am afraid to see you melt 
under my hands. The major would make a nice face to see his 
friend Miller reduced to a mud puddle. Come on, friend Robert, 
come on!” 

Half amused, half vexed, Miller followed Schultze’s admoni- 
tion. The storm had meanwhile spent its greatest fury, and the 
wanderers found no difficulty in reaching the chaussee. Once 
there, their task was comparatively easy. Nothing but the chal- 
lenge of the numerous sentinels stopped their progress, and just 
as the clock of the cathedral struck the eleventh hour, they as- 
cended the stairs leading to their room. They were both tired 
and in no humor for conversation. No sooner, therefore, had 
the wet clothes been removed, than the friends sought their beds 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 125 

aud fell asleep, }’ielding to that powerful influence to which even 
the greatest mind and strongest body have to succumb. 

When Miller awoke next morning the sun shone into his room. 
He started up and was surprised to see Schultze’ s bed empty. 
Had he slept so long and soundly ? Why had Schultze failed to 
waken him? Could it be barely possible — 

He jumped from his bed and began to dress in the greatest 
hurry. In this occupation he was interrupted by his servant, who 
brought his boots and asked for orders. 

“Where is Schultze ?” was Miller’s first inquiry. 

“The lieutenant has gone out.” 

“Where to?” 

“I do not know.” 

‘‘When?” o 

“Very early.” 

“Why did you not waken me sooner ?” 

“The lieutenant would not let me. ‘Carl,’ said he to me; ‘don’t 
you disturb your master. He went through much fatigue last 
night and needs rest.’ ” 

“And that is all ?” 

“All Iknow at least.” 

“Is the major in?” 

“No, Sir; he too went out. I saw him mount his horse and 
ride away.” 

“It is well; you can go.” 

“Shall I bring in your breakfast?” 

“No, Sir ; not now. I’ll let you know when I want it.” 

By this time he had finished dressing and was on the point of 
leaving the room, when hasty steps became audible on the stair- 
way and Schultze burst into the room. His face looked flushed 
and after a hurried “good morning,” he threw himself upon a 
chair to recover the breath of which rapid motion had evidently 
deprived him. Miller looked at him with contracted brows. 

“What does this mean?” he inquired moodily. 

“It means that your friends acted for you while you slept.” 

“Am I a child to require such treatment?” Miller retorted an- 
grily. 


.126 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


“No, but a patient whom the physician is obliged to put under 
chloroform.” 

“Explain yourself. Why do you act and speak in riddles?” 

“Now, don’t get angry, Robert,” Schultze admonished in a 
soothing voice. “What I have done I did from motives of friend- 
ship. So, if I erred, you must blame the heart, not the will.” 

“Come to the point,” said Miller. “You rack me with your 
preambles.” 

“What a passion!” said Schultze. “Your conduct convinces 
me that I did right in clearing up all doubts.” 

“What doubts, August?” 

“Why, concerning Miss Delmont’s implication in yesterday’s 
affair.” 

“So you were there?” 

“I was.” 

“And your suspicion?” 

“Was only too well founded.” 

Miller groaned. Schultze took his hand and said: 

“Poor Robert!” 

Miller freed his hand and said impatiently : 

“Don’t pity me: tell me rather what you discovered. lean 
bear it all; but I want truth, the whole truth.” 

“You shall have it, Robert. But sit down and do not discon- 
cert me by such a doleful face.” 

Miller obeyed and Schultze began : 

“I had an ugly dream, last night, Robert. I dreamt that they 
attacked us and killed you before my eyes. The terror awakened 
me. I saw that the night was nearly spent, and finding you asleep 
I began to think whether it would not be well to get up and in- 
vestigate this affair before you returned to consciousness. I 
knew that the worst certainty would annoy you less than this 
harrowing doubt, and that you would forgive my interference in 
consideration of my motives. Getting up softly, I dressed and 
went down stairs to see the major and consult him regarding the 
best mode of canying out my intentions. He at once sanctioned 
my plan and put at my disposal a dozen of men for any emergen- 
cies that might arise. I picked my men, and started for the scene 
of yesterday’s adventure at double quick. It isn’t far, you know 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


127 


and soon a charred and splintered tree betrayed to us the exact 
spot* The rain had softened the ground, and we discovered, not 
only our own footsteps, but also the tracks of our assailant. My 
men greeted them with a hurrah, but I felt an ugly foreboding;, 
for the tracks ran straight in the direction of the house where 
we spent such pleasant hours.” 

“But that alone is not sufficient to convict her, August. Who 
knows — ” 

“I know, Robert. To tell the truth, I would rather not know; 
for she is really a splendid woman; but what’s the use of playing 
possum with facts that stare us so mercilessly in the face. The 
tracks ran not only towards the house — they led actually into it* 
and we found the muddy footprints of our would-be assassin in 
parlor and hall.” 

Miller moaned again; then he tried another excuse. 

“He may have forced his presence upon the ladies,” he said. 
“Don’t let us condemn them too rashly, August.” 

Schultze shook his head. 

“You don’t know all,” he said; “or you would give up trying 
to clear her.” 

“So there is more to learn? Did yon see — did you hear her?” 

“I neither saw nor heard her.” 

“But why not? It strikes me that justice would have required 
to take her testimony; to listen to her explanations.” 

“Robert, that was impossible.” 

“Impossible? and why, August?” 

“Simply, because she was not there. They had all fled : the 
house was empty !” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

West of Metz the first and second German armies stopped their 
victorious march : theirs was the unpleasant but highly important 
task of holding Bazaine in the living vice from which his most 
frantic exertions were incapable of freeing him. The two armies* 


128 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


however, had given birth to a third one, whose privilege it was to 
inarch on Paris, in support of the troops of Frederic William, 
which had never halted, but marching from Nancy, where we met 
them, had reached the advanced position of Vitry-le-Francais, 
and Froyes. The fourth army was entrusted to Albert, the 
Crown-Prince of Saxony, who had earned the reputation of a fear- 
less soldier and a skilful general on the hard-fought battle-fields 
of Bohemia in 1866, and now, by the splendid handling of his 
troops at Nouart, Beaumont and Sedan, proved the wisdom of 
King William’s selection. Taking a north-eastern direction and 
leaving Verdun on his left, he rivalled with the Prussian Crown- 
Prince in wonders of endurance and rapidity, to dispute with 
him the glory of arriving first under the forts of Paris. 

And the French : how did they receive the news of reverses, 
the like of which are wanting in the pages of history? What 
did they do to retrieve losses which a cool judgment pronounced 
well nigh irrepairable? Did they in good grace accept the situa- 
tion as it was, or did they, with genuine French over-estimation 
and hollowness, blind themselves and the nation, and continue, 
with criminal recklessness, a war which, with horrible profusencss, 
heaped misery upon the assailants, and ten- fold misery upon the 
assailed? The reader knows the answer to this inquiry* Instead 
of acknowledging their own want of preparation and the mani- 
fest superiority of their adversaries, they cried about treason, and 
cast infamy upon the very leaders whose names they had hitherto 
covered with an idolatrous adulation. Olivier was a fool, Gram- 
mont a knave, Le Boeuf a military bungler: yes, even Napoleon, 
whose slightest hints they had for eighteen years obeyed with 
servile submissiveness, was all at once reduced from a demi-god 
to the adventurer which he had been before the 2nd December ’52 
and to the perfidious tyrant which in re ality he had been all the 
while. 

Napoleon had left Metz just in time to escape the fate of Ba- 
zaine. He fled to Verdun, where McMahon was vainly endeavor- 
ing to create order out of the chaos of the French armies under 
his command. Now that Bazaine had failed, Frossard been killed 
and Le Bceuf been dismissed, McMahon’s defeats at Weissenburg 
and Wcerth had been pardoned, not forgotten, and the command 





♦ 


French Peasants fleeing from Metz, 






THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


129 


of all the available regular troops placed in his hands. He recei- 
ved Napoleon with bitter reproaches, charging him with having 
abandoned him and a few isolated corps to the onslaught of 
an entire army. I do not pretend to decide whether these re- 
proaches were just or not : I merely want to show how much the 
authority of Napoleon must even then have been shaken, to em- 
bolden one of his creatures to such language. The emperor was 
then nothing but a cipher. Eugenie was regent; but even from 
her hands the reins of government were fast escaping. She only 
sustained herself by sacrificing the ministry who had counselled 
the war under the maddening applause of the people, and now 
staggered under their execration for the veiy same reason. Oli- 
vier resigned amidst the insulting hoots of the Legislature, and 
Palicao, the libertine, the despiser of the people, the descendent 
of the ancient regime, was lifted in his place, because it was be- 
lieved, that it required a mad courage, an arbitrary despotic cha- 
racter like his to save the country from the extreme jjeril into 
which the folly of the empire had plunged it: 

Napoleon, tho’ no military genius, saw well enough that McMa- 
hon would be incapable of holding Verdun, and therefore wisely 
retreated with his son to Rheims. McMahon followed soon after- 
wards, directing the march oi his army to Chalons, and making 
such preparations at the famous camp of that place as to lead the. 
expectant wor'd to the belief that the renowned town which had 
once before, seen the fate of the world decided on its plains, was 
destined to witness such another battle. But in this the world 
was disappointed. If McMahon had acted on his original inten- 
tion, or if, unable to cope with the victorious Germans, he had 
cautiously and slowty retreated towards the capital, he might have 
much retarded and surely would have greatly lessened their mar- 
velous achievements. But no! It seemed as if an irrepressible 
fate was bound to push the French to the extremity to which we 
see them to-day reduced. Contrary to all expectations, contrary 
to the dictates of prudence and caution, the marshal conceived 
the desperate idea of abandoning the capital and marching to the 
relief of Bazaine. In accordance with this idea he evacuated 
Chalons with such rapidity that lie was compelled to burn the 
camp and a portion of the collected supplies. 

9 


130 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


First he aimed at Rlieims which he reached by means of the 
railway connecting the two towns* From thence he turned to the 
north-east, passing Rethel and aiming at the valley of the ChierS’ 
which contains the railroad to Thionville and the fortresses of 
Sedan and Montmedy, under whose guns he imagined to be able 
to execute the movement with impunity. Once in Thionville he 
would find little difficulty in joining Bazaine and then, with super 
ior numbers, fall on the communications of the invaders, whose 
fate seemed sealed, in case all these movements were crowned 
with success. In case , there was the trouble. The mere bold- 
ness of a plan does not entitle the conceiver to the claims of gen- 
ius. Success is generally the test of excellence. By yielding to 
the temptation of executing his Quixotic plan, McMahon com- 
mitted as great a crime against his country, as if he had betrayed 
it on purpose. Of course, his motives w r ould have been much 
more criminal in the latter case; but the result of treason could 
not havetibeen any more fatal than that of his boldness proved to 
be. Moltke’s designs were marked by boldness as well; but it 
was a boldness adapted to his means, and based on a perfect know- 
ledge of his ability to carry them out. Witness the battle of 
Thionville or Mars la Tour, where a feeble corps was thrown be- 
tween Metz and Verdun to stop the retreat of the entire army o 1 
Bazaine; witness the investment of Paris and its millions, while 
the rest of France prepared to raise the siege. Bolder movements 
than those history cannot exhibit; nor can she show movements 
more faithfully executed. 

Still, if the plan of McMahon was fraught with danger to 
France, it was no less perilous to the Germans. Let the marshal 
succeed in covering up his movements for a few days; let him 
succeed in gaining the start for a day or two, and the success of 
the whole plan is pretty well secured. Once at Montmedy, his 
progress to Thionville and Metz can no longer be prevented. But 
this start the Germans do not allow him, this time. The Uhlan, 
the Hussar, these agile forerunners of their army, hover around 
McMahon as the hawk above its prey. Now repelled, they return 
to-morrow; driven at one place, they attack at another, and never 
lose connection with the retiring foe. True, for a little white 
they are ignorant as to the direction in which the main columns 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


131 


of the foe retreat; but fortunately Rlieims lies nortli-west of Cha 
Ions, and McMahon’s inarch upon Sedan is at first a withdrawal 
from it. When at last he wheels and inarches upon Rethel, the 
Uhlans are fully aware of his intentions and on quickly estab- 
lished telegraphs flash the startling news to head-quarters- 
Quickly the two invading armies face about, the Saxon Crown- 
Prince on the right, in advance, because favored by his more north 
ern position ; but his royal colleague coming up with marches 
that tax the sterling qualities of his soldiers to the utmost. 

Between the rivers Aisne and Meuse the forest of Argonne runs 
from the north to the south. Through its defiles and along its 
ridges the German armies executed their northward march, until 
they reached the road which runs from Grand-Pre across the 
mountains to Stenay. The French at the same time marched on 
the turnpike, which leads from Le Chene to Sedan, occupying a 
line parallel to that of their foes. Still, they seemed to have had 
no clear idea of their proximity, probably deeming their cavalry 
only a few detached pickets, sent out to harass and delay them. 
In spite of all the care bestowed upon the French cavalry by Na- 
poleon, no part of his army showed its inferiority to the enemy 
more strikingly, than that important branch. While the light Uh- 
lans were always near the hostile army and posted on its position, 
the French horsemen seemed totally unmindful of the importance 
of feeling the enemy. So in this instance. So little were the 
French aware of the approach of the Germans in full strength, 
that it was left to the hostile shells to convey the first informa- 
tion into the camp at Beaumont, and to drive the soldiers from 
their dinner, But let us endeavor to trace in detail this stupend- 
ous struggle, which began on the 27th of August with great ex- 
pectations of the French, and ended on the 2nd of September, 
with the downfall of the empire. On the 27th, the third Saxon 
regiment of cavalry, supported by a squadron of Uhlans and a 
battery, met a regiment of chasseurs-a-cheval at Busancy, a bor- 
ough between Youziers and Stenay. This was the first important 
cavalry fight of the war, and it ended in a victory for the German 
arms. On the 29th, two squadrons of Prussian Hussars met 
Turcos and Zouaves at the village of Yoneq betweer Youziers 
and Astigny. The French occupied the village, which lies on an 


132 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


eminence and is inaccessible to cavalry ; but the Hussars, nothing 
daunted, alighted and carried the village by assault, taking the 
whole body of the French prisoners. The first fight, however, 
deserving the name of a battle, occurred on the 29th at Nouart* 
Frederic William’s army had not yet arrived; but Albert of Sax- 
ony, anxious to prevent the further advance of McMahon, at- 
tacked and repulsed him. On the next day, the 30th, he was re- 
inforced by the 4th and theHPrussian and the first Bavarian corps, 
and these three corps fell at Beaumont, on the left bank of the 
Meuse, upon the French. As said before, the French were sur- 
prised in their camp; but so favorable was the territory for de- 
fense, that they found no difficulty in rallying. The battle now 
assumed a most fearful character: rivalling in carnage with the 
bloodiest of the war. The French were slowly but steadily dri- 
ven towards Beaumont, which town fell into the hands of the 
Germans, and remained in their possession in spite of Failly’s 
desperate attempts to retake it. At the same time the Saxons 
and Bavarians directed their efforts against Mouzon, which was 
defended by the French with equal tenacity, but finally fell into 
the hands of the Germans with 3,000 prisoners and 23 cannons* 
The principal fruits of the victory, however, consisted in the 
circumstance that McMahon’s advance was effectually checked^ 
and the theater of war confined to the territory between the Meuse 
and the Belgian frontier. 

King William and the Emperor Napoleon 1ml both been witnes- 
ses of the battle of Beaumont, the former from the heights of 
Sommauthe, the latter from the ridge at the back of the French 
camp. When the battle was over, the German leaders met in 
council and matured the plan which resulted in the capture of 
McMahon’s army. The Prussians, on the 31st, marched upon 
Carrignan on the river Chiers, and beat the right w T ing of the 
French under Faillj r , thus cutting off the last avenue leading to 
the east. The army of Frederic William, on the other hand, took 
a north-western course, and halted on the west of Sedan, thus 
shutting up that avenue, and leaving open nothing but the road 
to Bouillon and the Belgian frontier. 

As yet, however, the French seemed to fear no such calamity 
as that which was to befall them two days later, for they made no 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


m 

attempt to escape to Belgium, uutil it was too late. When they 
awoke to the full consciousness of their situation, it was too late* 
They saw themselves [attacked with the greatest impetuosity on 
the south by the Bavarians and Saxons, and while these troops 
engaged their attention, the balance of the German army closed 
the gap which the iron girdle of the besiegers had thus long 
shown. 

Eye-witnesses describe the struggle around Sedan as fearful in 
the extreme ; but the losses were chiefly on the side of the French. 
True, some of their troops still fought with the fury of despair; 
but on the greater part the demoralizing effect of continued de- 
feat began to tell. They fell back from hill to hill, until the 
whole immense army was crowded together in the immediate 
neighborhood of Sedan. Then, of course, the last chance was 
gone. The bravest troops want room to manoeuvre in, and the 
French troops, huddled together around and in the streets ’of Se- 
dan, were only so many victims to be shot down by the far-reaoh 
ing and fearfully eflicient artillery of the Germans. McMahon 
received a severe wound in the side, and the command passed to 
General Witnpfen; but this was a measure nearly useless, for the 
soldiers were fast reaching the point, where they forgot the ne- 
cessity of obedience. Escaping from the battle-field and the con- 
trol of their officers, they poured into the streets of the town and 
committed excesses such as only the reckless and despairing are 
capable of committing. The inhabitants learned to their sorrow 
that under such circumstances the friend is often more to be 
feared than the foe. Yielding to despair themselves, they sought 
such places of refuge as their houses would offer, and waited in 
fear and trembling for the hour that was to decide their destiny. 
It came at last, and the white flag on the walls of Sedan announ 
ced to the wondering world that the army and person of Napoleon 
were prisoners in the hands of the Germans and the days of his 
rule at an end. 

And the friends, whose adventures we have made it our busi- 
ness to follow: did they also assist in this great achievement? 
Let us retrace our steps, and see whether we can discover them 
in the turmoil of battle. 

When Frederic William’s army had faced about and comme®- 


134 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


eed their northward march, the Bavarian jsegers had been amongst 
the quickest and most advanced. They had come too late for the 
battle of Nouart; but got their full share of that of Beaumont 
Rivalling in bravery and rapidity with the Saxons and Prussians^, 
they had pushed on from position to position, until the town was 
taken and the battle, decided. Major Haller and his friends, the 
American volunteers, had fought with their wonted valor ; butr 
in the evening, when the roll was called, the Americans failed to 
answer to their names. Where could they be? Nobod} 7 had seen 
them fall, nor had they been wounded to the knowledge of any- 
body. So their absence could only be explained on the assump- 
tion that they had been taken prisoners, they and about twenty 
more, who also failed to answer to their names. A little lateiv 
this supposition was confirmed by one of the wounded who was 
brought in. He had been an eye-witness of their capture. Led 
away*by his ardor, Miller had penetrated too deeply into the nar- 
row lanes of Daigny, and thus been cut off'. He, Schultze and all 
the men had fought like lions; but all their efforts had failed, in- 
consequence of the heavy odds against them. Just then the nar- 
rator had been wounded; but he had retained sufficient conscious- 
ness to witness the disarming of his comrades. His story was 
received with a mixture of satisfaction and regret; the former 
because it set aside all fears of their being killed; the latter, be- 
cause it destroyed all hopes of an immediate reunion with their 
comrades. At the same time it fired the hearts of the jaegers, and 
lent to their subsequent movements an asperity, a ferocity which 
had thus far been^ foreign to them. True, this spirit was in a 
measure shared by all the troops of both armies. You cannot let 
the demons of war loose upon the world without soon witnessing 
their brutalizing influence. As battle after battle claims its vic- 
tims, as village after village feels the scourge of war, the heart 
of the gentlest becomes hardened; the consideration for right 
and justice dulled; the regard for person and property blunted- 
The villages around Sedan bear frightful testimony to the truth 
of this assertion; but none of them more plainly than the unfor- 
tunate village of Bazailles. Against it marched the Bavarian 
troops, at their head the jaegers. The French contested every 
inch of ground, and in the long and bloody struggle for its pos~ 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


135 


session, the passions of the soldiers were roused to their highest 
pitch. Nevertheless Bazailles would have fared no worse than 
the other places, if unfortunately the wretched inhabitants had 
hot taken it into their heads to join the conflict against the in- 
vaders, and fire upon them from their houses. This is an offense 
which no soldier will forgive. He battles patiently against the 
greatest odds, and under the most trying circumstances; but if 
the civilian joins the strife against him; if the bullet of the as- 
sassin mingles with that of his legitimate opponent: then woe to 
the community which thus wantonly arouses the tiger in his bo- 
som. 

The village was taken, when, all at once, reports of musketry 
sounded from the rear, and hostile bullets found their way into 
the back of the victors. Little clouds of smoke at the windows 
explained the origin of the fire. “They shoot from the houses!’’ 
burst from the lips of the men, and this cry, borne from mouth 
to mouth, soon reached the thundering force of the avalanche, 
as it rolls from the mountain-crest to the doomed valley below 
In a moment the doors of the houses, from which the shots had 
been fired, were burst in and the inhabitants shot or bayonetted. 
Then the torch was applied, and, before the expiration of many 
minutes, the greedy element licked the walls and sent its fiery 
tongue far above the roofs. 

It is a sad but undisputed fact that in this world the innocent 
must suffer with the guilty. The enraged Bavarians did not con- 
fine their destruction to the houses from which the shots had 
been fired. Before they knew it, their rage had carried them to 
ofhers, until at last every building in the village had fallen a prey 
to the flames. The officers did their best to curb the fury of 
their men, and save, at least, such women and children, as endeav- 
ored to escape from the havoc. Foremost among them was Ma- 
jor Haller, whose cooler northern temperament was foreign to the 
frenzy which seemed to have seized his men. He exhorted here? 
commanded there, and in several instances interfered bodily be- 
tween the slayers and their victims. This was especially the case 
with the inhabitants of a large and handsome villa, situated on 
the akirts of the village. The house was burning, like all the 
others, when Haller arrived before it. Nor would he have en- 


136 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


deavored to save it from destruction, perhaps, because he saw 
the vanity of the attempt; perhaps, because he deemed this pun 
ishment of the treacherous inhabitants just. What attracted him 
was the piteous wailing of an elderly woman, whom the sol 
diers had dragged from the cellar of the burning villa, together 
with a younger woman and a man, who struggled hard to free 
himself from the grasp of two stout Bavarians. The shrieks of 
the woman, the curses of the man, and the shouts of the frenzied 
soldiers formed a concert which was hideous even to the ears of 
the major, accustomed to the sounds of war though he was. The 
only redeeming feature in the horrible tableau was the figure and 
conduct of the younger woman. Anxious as the major was to 
save and shelter, he could not abstain from letting his eyes rest 
a moment on the girl. She stood and gazed upon her assailants 
with a mixture of defiance and self-possession truly startling. 
True, her dress was tattered, and her hair flew in dishevelled 
masses around her handsome face; but this disorder, perhaps 
lent an additional attraction to the apparition. Even the en- 
raged soldiers seemed to feel the influence of this girl ; for they 
abstained from touching her, wreaking their entire fury upon the 
struggling man and the screaming dame. 

“Shut up, old witch, or I’ll put a damper on your whistle! 1 ’ 
cried one. 

“Stand aside, boj-s, and let me run my tooth-pick into the fel 
low's belly;” exclaimed another, approaching the male prisoner 
with pointed bayonet. Haller saw that no time was to be lost, if 
he wanted to save the people. So, acting on the spur of the mo 
ment, he exclaimed : 

“Company, attention! Fall into line! Right face! March! 
march!” 

This stratagem had the desired effect. Obedience had become 
their second nature, and, hearing the well-known words of com 
mand, they executed the movements with the regularity of clock 
work. The officers evidently guesssed the intention of the ma 
jor, and, entering into his spirit, led their men to the further pur 
suit of the enemy, Haller now rode up to the trio. 

“My friends ! 11 he addressed them in French; “you had better 
withdraw from here at once. This time I was able to save you, 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


1ST 


a second time you might be less fortunate. Listen to my advice, 
and take to your heels/’ 

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and galloped after hie 
men. The released prisoners, on the other hand, drew a deep 
breath of relief, and, after a moment’s consultation, hastened past 
the burning villa into a court-yard. The stables and barns had 
not escaped the fate of the main building; but, as they were nu- 
merous and extensive, the flames had only partly done their work, 
leaving, thus far, a few of the smaller sheds intact. Towards 
one of them the man drew his companions, and drew, from its 
shelter, a horse hitched to a covered spring-wagon. After help- 
ing the women to a seat, he jumped in himself, and drove from 
the burning village with all the haste which the strength of the 
horse and the condition of the road would allow. But before we 
follow the trio, we must* turn back a day, and trace the steps of 
some other persons, in whose fate we are more deeply interested. 




CHAPTER XIV. 

It was a sad moment for our friends, the volunteers, when they 
were marched through the gate of Sedan, on the evening of the 
30th of August. In addition to the natural vexation at being 
captured, they suffered under the ungenerous conduct of their 
captors. A German prisoner seemed to be a rare sight to the 
French soldiers and people; for not only did everybody stare at 
the dozen jaegers as the eighth wonder of the world, but every 
body seemed determined to wreak upon them the whole spite 
which the victories of the Germans had naturally excited. Taunts, 
abuses, blows were incessantly showered upon them, and the offi- 
cers, instead of redressing their wrongs, were eager to increase 
them. Before reaching the fortress, the prisoners had lost their 
watches, their purses, and what other valuables seemed desirable 
to their guard. At first Miller had protested to the commanding- 
officer, in the name of his comrades ; but when he found that hi* 


138 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


remonstrances only aggravated their injuries, he advised the 
others to maintain a contemptuous silence, himself setting- them 
a good example. 

The fatal First had not yet sprung from the lap of Time, and 
the prisoners therefore found comparative order in Sedan. The 
inhabitants as yet had no idea of the "great humiliation in 
store for them and their army, and found time to insult a few 
helpless prisoners. A mob soon gathered around them and, but 
for the protection of the guard they might have been assaulted, 
perhaps murdered. As it was, numberless insults rained upon 
their devoted heads; nor could, or would the guard protect them 
against an occasional stone, hurled against them by the mob. 

. A sigh of relief escaped their breasts, when at last they were 
marched through an archway and shut in by the high walls of a 
court. There they were left to themselves, with a guard at the 
entrance, whose duty it was, not only to keep them in, but also 
to prevent the entrance of the curious mob. Miller and Schultze 
seated themselves on a stone step and indulged in melancholy 
reflections, when, all at once, Schultze started up, and, touching 
his friend, pointed in the direction of the entrance. Miller looked 
and he, too, could not suppress a motion of surprise, for there, 
behind the yard, stood the man of Nancy and of Havre, he who, 
on his flight from France, had shown such livety interest in his 
.ruin. In Nancy the stranger had not dared to meet his glance? 
as the reader will recollect; but now he braved the searching eye 
of Miller with the greatest assurance, smiling scornfully and 
finally shaking his hand in a threatening manner. A moment 
afterwards he had disappeared. 

“I don’t like that fellow’s face,” said Schultze. U I fear, his 
appearance means mischief.” 

U I don’t admire him, either; but still, what could he do? The 
French have too much to do, to think of raking up old affairs.” 

“’Tis hard to tell. This fellow seems to hate } t ou, and hatred 
is a powerful lever. At all events it won’t hurt us to be on our 
guard.” 

The subject was dropped, for at that moment a noise was heard 
overhead, and when the prisoners looked up, they saw a door 
open in the second storj^ of a barn -like building, and a dozen 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


139 


bundles of straw pitched into the yard. They were then informed 
that the straw was all the accommodation for the night they 
could receive. At the same time they received their supper con- 
sisting of a slice of rye-bread for each man and a bucket of wa- 
ter for common use. After that the ponderous gate was closed 
on them, and they were left to themselves without any cover to 
protect them against the night-air, their own blankets having been 
stolen from them after their capture. In vain did they look for 
fuel to build a lire. Not the smallest stick could be found, and,, 
to make matters worse, a chilling drizzling rain began to fall, and 
to penetrate their clothes and the straw on which they were to 
sleep. Fortunatety, the roof of the barn above mentioned pro- 
jected several feet over the wall, and as the north-wind drove the 
rain away from the building, the men succeeded in securing at 
least a tolerably dry sleeping-place. Huddling together as closely 
as possible, they endeavored to keep warm as best they could, 
cursing the moment that reduced them to captivity and waiting 
impatiently for the re-appearance of daylight. 

While they thus count the minutes and hours that seem end- 
less let us follow the man who had attracted the attention of 
Schultze. It was growing dark when he left the archway, wrapped 
in a long cloak, his slouched hat drawn so deeply over his brow 
as to conceal his face. He walked through several streets, mut- 
tering an occasional curse and now and then quickening his steps, 
as if spurred by the impetuosity of his thoughts and feelings. 
At length he stopped before a stately building whose stone walls 
loomed darkly through the twilight. Sentinels paced the pave- 
ment before the house, and soldiers as well as civilians crowded 
the stairway, some seeking ingress to, others egress from the 
building. It was the mansion of the Sous -Prefect, with whom 
Napoleon had taken his abode. The man in the cloak ascended 
the stairs and stepped into the hall with the assurance of a man 
who knows his way and feels at home. Turning to the left, he 
entered a small apartment, which looked like the office of a por- 
ter or similar menial. It was occupied by an elderly man, who 
rose and respectfully greeted the visitor. 

; “Is your master at home?” inquired the latter, in a hurried 
voice. > 


140 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“He is, monsieur; but he is engaged, and — ” 

“Never mind, he is not engaged to me. Take this card to him, 
and report at once. I shall await your return in this room.*’ 

He wrote a few words on the back of his card, and handed it 
to the servant who carried it to his master. In a few minutes he 
reappeared, and informed the visitor that his master was ready 
to receive him. Then leading him up stairs, he ushered him into 
a room, the double doors of which he closed behind him. The 
man in the cloak found himself in a large and elegant apartment 
occupied by a single person, who had evidently awaited him, for 
on his visitor’s appearance, he stepped forward and said with a 
mixture of politeness and impatience: 

“Ah! Monsieur Dupre: what gives me the pleasure of your 
company to-night?” 

The visitor smiled. 

“You say pleasure and mean annoyance,” he said. “I know 
very well that you are busy ; but my business is so important 
that I could not spare you the interruption.” 

“Indeed? Well, let me hear then.” 

“As soon as we have seated ourselves. You value your time 
— I value my strength which has been greatly impaired by the 
war.” 

The other suppressed a gesture of impatience. Inviting hia 
visitor to a chair, and taking one himself, he said: 

“As you please, monsieur. If the war has impaired your 
strength, it has at least sharpened your humor. You are on the 
best way of becoming a “bel-esprit.” But now, having complied 
with your request: will you do me the favor of stating the na 
ture of your errand without delay.” 

“Certainly, and with pleasure. I want nothing more and noth- 
ing less than the head of an accursed Bavarian.” 

The host jumped from his chair. 

“Are you mad ?” he exclaimed. 

“Not to my knowledge,” the other replied, coolly. 

“Then you are making sport of me.” 

“I wouldn’t venture on such a liberty.” 

“Then what the deuce do you mean by such a funny requeafc” 
#r“I assure you I see nothing funny in it.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 141 

"Then explain. At present it looks like the production of a 
crazy brain.” 

“You’ll understand it in a minute. Do you recollect a conspi- 
racy, which occurred in Paris, in ’67, and in which many of our 
first families were implicated.” 

“I do, monsieur. Proceed, proceed!” 

“I am going as fast as I can. Do you recollect that one of the 
conspirators, a Bavarian, shot a policeman who endeavored to ar- 
rest him.” 

“I do, I do; but these are old affairs : what have they to do 
with your visit?” 

“A good deal, monsieur; as } r ou will perceive, when you learn 
that this self-same Bavarian is now a prisoner in our hands.” 

The other shook his head. 

“I must confess, I am as much in the dark as ever,” he said. 
“What is this Bavarian to you or me, noiv , I pray you ? Havn’t 
we enough trouble on hand, without opening old sores? Come, 
now, stop firing at random: I am fully prepared to meet the real 
issue.” 

“But monsieur wrongs me. I am in earnest when I demand 
this fellow’s head. What would you say, if I told you that this 
man suffered himself to be captured, in order to conspire anew 
against our illustrious master ?” 

A derisive smile passed over the other’s face. 

“I would say that it is a very pretty story, and lacks only the 
important circumstance that it is not true.” 

“You don’t believe it?” 

“No.” 

“And why not?” 

“Because it is improbable.” 

“Oh, improbable stories are not always fictitious. I could tell 
you one about a certain friend and adviser of the emperor, whom 
the people accuse of embezzling millions of the army-fund. That 
sounds improbable, does it not? And yet it is true, and can be 
proved.” 

The host turned deadly pale. 

“What do you mean ? You do not insinuate — ” he stammered. 

“I only mean that I must have the head of this Bavarian. I 


142 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


was good-natured enough to furnish you a plausible story for that 
purpose; but you dislike stories, and so I desist. Story or no 
story, however : if you don’t wish certain documents to make the 
round of the camp you must place the order for his execution 
into my hands before nine o’clock to-morrow morning.” 

The host struggled violently for the preservation of his self- 
command. At last he said: 

“And you refuse to give me the true reason for your blood- 
thirsty demand?” 

“Your question contains an insult,” he said with an ugly sneer, 
“Can you not elevate yourself to the position of a citizen who 
sacrifises his own tranquility for the good of his country?” 

The other made a gesture of impatience, and said : 

“What is the name of your victim?” 

“In Paris he went by the name of Le Brun ; in Nancy, however 
I learned that the army know him as Lieutenant Miller.” 

“Then we must arrest him as Le Brun. But can you prove the 
identity of that Le Brun with this Miller ?” 

“I can and will, Sir.” 

“It is well, monsieur. Come to meat nine to-morrow morning, 
and I shall see what can be done.” 

“You are very slow, monsieur. Can you not quicken the pro- 
cess a little.” 

“I cannot, Sir. We must go through the forms of atrial, at 
least. I am not almighty, and the emperor will not sign the 
death-warrant unless the regular process of law is observed. The 
question is, whether he will sign it at all in his present frame of 
mind.” 

“He must!” said Dupre with emphasis. 

“You are very bold and confident,” retorted the other, bitterly. 
“Beware that you do not fall into the snare which you lay for an- 
other.” 

“An occurrence which, no doubt, would please your excellency 
well, as it would rid you of a troublesome monitor. However, I 
thank you for the warning, and assure you that I shall not neg- 
lect to act on it.” 

With these words he saluted the other, and left the room. The 
host clenched his fist and shook it after him. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


143 


•‘Viper !” he muttered. “Could I but crush you under my feet I 
Why was I so silly to use as a tool and not destroy it afterwards? 
The wise man breaks the bowl in which he prepared his poison. 
I left mine entire, fool that I was ! But must this be? Is there 
no chance of saving a life which this monster wishes to -destroy, 
probably for reasons of revenge ? Could I not manage to let the 
prisoner escape? No, no! That would incense Dupre against 
me, and induce him to spring his mine before my counter-mine is 
ready. Just wait a little, my good friend, and you will be glad to 
relinquish the grasp with which you have held me so long. Un- 
til then, patience! I would save this fellow if I could; but if you 
must drink his blood — drink it, for all I care. What does it 
amount to, after all? Justice was cheated out of her dues in ’67 
and is entitled to capital and interest in ’70. She shall have it. 
When I have to choose between this fellow’s life and my own re- 
putation, I surely cannot hesitate. But woe to thee, Monsieur 
Dupre! Thou playest a bold game. Watch thy cards, or I shall 
send thee after thy victim before thou knowest it.” 

Slowly the night passed by; slowly for the restless emperor, 'the 
scheming minister, the plotting clerk, and the shivering prisoners. 
When the sun rose in the morning, scattering before his power- 
ful rays the drizzling rain, and gradually lighting up the area of 
the court, the prisoners yielded to his reviving influence, and 
looked on their situation with more cheerful eye3. True, they 
were prisoners; but did not the Germans hold thousands of cap- 
tives for every one of which the French could boast? Would not 
their friends make an effort to have them exchanged as soon as 
possible? Their greatest vexation consisted in the apprehension 
that their release would be too late for a participation in the vie 
torious march upon the capital and the laurels to be gathered on 
that occasion. 

While they exchanged views on these and other subjects, their 
breakfast was brought them, consisting, like their supper, of 
bread and water. When they asked for a larger supply of the 
latter for washing purposes, they were informed that the bucket 
furnished them was all that could be spared, and that they must 
make it answer for both purposes. This led to comical exclama- 
tions and practical jokes, and the simple meal passed off more 


144 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


cheerfully than the circumstances seemed to warrant. It was 
eoon over, however, and then the greatest enemy of prison-life-) 
tediousness, began to prey upon the men. They had nothing to 
occupy either mind or body. The dingy walls surrounding them 
offered a dreary aspect for the eye; nor were the few curious fa- 
ces peeping through the bars of the gate, much more attractive. 
Slowly the time wore away, and the prisoners judged, from the 
height of the sun, that the tenth hour had arrived, when, all at 
once, an unusual bustle at the gate attracted their attention. The 
gate opened, and a corporal with six soldiers marched into the 
court. They approached the prisoners and halted in their imme- 
diate neighborhood. 

“Who of you is Monsieur Miller?” the corporal addressed them. 

The two friends exchanged a significant glance. 

“My foreboding!” muttered Schultze. “I knew the rascal would 
be after you.” 

“Come, come, messieurs! answer me!” said the corporal, impa- 
tiently. “We have no. time to lose: who of you goes by the name 
of Miller?” 

Miller now rose from the bundle on which he had been sitting, 
and the others followed his example. 

“My name is Miller,” he replied. “What do you want of me?” 

“I have the order to take you to head-quarters. Have the good- 
ness to follow me.” 

“I knew it! I knew it!” Schultze exclaimed, half sadly, half 
angrily. “That rascal will not rest until he kills you.” 

“I hope it isn’t so bad as that,” said Miller, consolingly. “At 
all events, I’ll have to humor the wishes of this gentleman. Good- 
bye, Schultze, good-bye, comrades! Be of good cheer, until we 
meet again.” 

“Can I accompany my friend?” Schultze inquired of the corpo- 
ral. 

“I can take nobody but Monsieur Miller.” 

“Oh God! I knew it, I knew it!” cried the poor fellow, covering 
his face with his hands and yielding to the feelings of the mo- 
ment. “I shall never see you again, Robert.” 

“Yes, you wili, August,” replied Miller, touched by the other’s 
affection. “This is merely a matter of form. They will not suf- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


145 


for this enemy of mine to cany out his petty revenge. Depend 
•upon it, you will see me again before the morning has passed 
away. Good-bye, my friend : do not give these fellows the satis- 
faction of sneering at your weakness.” 

Schultze pressed his hand ; but his heart was too full for utter- 
ance. He turned aside, while the soldiers took Miller into their 
midst and led him away. The other prisoners shared his emo- 
tion. They all loved the young officer, and his removal deprived 
the sun of his warming and cheerful influence. The uncertain 
destiny of their comrade hung like a heavy cloud over their spirits, 
and the balance of the day was spent in despondency and mourn- 
ful reflection. 

In the meantime, the prisoner was marched through the streets^ 
•and became again the target for the snoers, the abuse, and the 
missiles of the mob. The soldiers did their best to protect him, 
while he himself responded to the invectives merely by a derisive 
smile. The open contempt of the prisoner, however, irritated the 
mob more than the bitterest retorts would have done; and the 
corporal seemed to become seriously alarmed for his safety. He 
ordered the soldiers to quicken their steps, and felt evidently re- 
lieved, when they reached the mansion of the Sous-Prefect. Mil- 
ler was led into the hall, and then ushered into an apartment, 
where a number of officers sat around an oblong table. The sol- 
diers withdrew to the hall, leaving Miller alone in the presence of 
his judges. That the officers sat there in that capacity, his prac- 
tised eye discerned at once. There were seven in all, and their 
grave appearance showed that they were conscious of the respon- 
sibility resting upon them. After an impressive silence, one of 
the officers, apparently the oldest, addressed the prisoner: 

“Monsieur, you call yourself Miller?” 

“Miller is my name.” 

“If that is so, it is my painful duty to inform you that you are 
charged with the grave offences of high-treason and murder, and 
that my brother-officers and myself have been constituted a court- 
martial to try you. Listen to the specification of the charges 
preferred against you.” 

The president of the court then proceeded to read a paper, 
which contained, in legal terms, the detail of the accusation with 
10 


146 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


which we are already familiar. After he had finished, he sum- 
moned the prisoner before the bar to declare whether he confes- 
sed himself guilty or not guilty . Miller answered evasively. 

“Before I answer your question,” he said, “I should like to 
test the validity of your right to try me. To judge from appear- 
ances this is a military court, a tribunal which can hardly have 
jurisdiction over an old offense, foreign to this war.” 

“Then you acknowledge the justice of the charge?” 

“I acknowledge nothing. I find it strange that Monsieur should 
turn a denial into an acknowledgment.” 

u JEh Men! Your denial will do you little good. Martial law 
having been proclaimed in Sedan, all offences, no matter whether 
old or new, belong properly before a military court. I do not 
want to take undue advantage of you, and therefore request you 
to examine this paper, which contains our appointment as judges 
for this case.” 

Miller perused the paper in silence and then handed it back. 

“Are you now ready to answer my previous question?” the 
president resumed. “Are you guilty or not guilty of the charge?” 

“Not guilty.” 

“Then it becomes our duty to prove our charges. Monsieur 
le capitaine, please to elicit the truth by examining the prisoner.” 

The officer addressed turned to Miller and inquired : 

“Did you reside at Paris in the year of our Lord 1867 ?” 

“I refuse to answer.” 

“And why?” 

“Because I prefer not to criminate myself,” 

“Did you ever go by the name of Le Brun.” 

“I regret that I am compelled to reply as before.” 

“You are wrong to be stubborn, Monsieur. Obstinacy can 
only aggravate your case. We are prepared to prove our charges 
by witnesses.” 

“Why then waste time in asking useless questions?” 

“Oh well! if you can dispense with our leniency, you shall be 
accommodated. Monsieur le capitaine, produce your testimony.” 

The captain opened the door of an adjoining room, and intro- 
duced a person in whom Miller at once recognized the mysteri- 
ous stranger. It was the first time he saw him so near by, and 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


147 


a feeling of repugnance and hatred arose in his mind at the 
thought that this stranger pursued him so relentlessly, and, to 
his knowledge, so entirely without cause. The stranger avoided 
his glance, bowing to the court as he entered, and looking stead- 
ily at the president. 

“Monsieur,” that officer addressed him, “have the goodness to 
step this way, in order to be sworn. We need your testimony in 
this case.” 

The new comer obeyed the summons and a minute afterwards 
the oath had been administered. 

“Now, state your name,” said the president. 

“My name is Alcibiades Dupre.” 

On hearing that name, a light of recognition shot through 
Miller’s mind. JSTow he knew where to place the man, and he al- 
most suffered an “ah” to escape his lips. One thing, however, 
continued to puzzle him: he had never injured this Dupre; why 
then did the fellow hate him so? 

This, however, was not the time for reflection. The president 
began to speak again, and the prisoner listened in the greatest 
suspense. 

“Were you in Paris in 1867 ?” 

“I was, -Sir.” 

“Did you then know a certain person going by the name of Le 
Brun?” 

“I did, Sir.” 

“Robert Le Brun?” 

“Robert Le Brun.” 

“Would you know him on seeing him?” 

“I would.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very sure.” 

“Look around: do .you see him in this room?” 

Dupre let his eyes wander over the room, and when they lit 
upon the prisoner’s face, the latter imagined he saw a savage sat- 
isfaction shine forth from them. Without hesitating a moment, 
Dupre pointed to Miller and said : 

“That man is Robert Le Brun.” 


148 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“That is sufficient, Monsieur Dupre. Captain, have you any 
other witnesses?” 

“I have,” said the captain, and, opening the adjoining room, 
introduced an aged officer who wore the uniform of the imperial 
guards. On being sworn, he was asked whether he knew the 
prisoner before the bar. 

To this he replied affirmatively. 

“Where did you see him?” the president inquired. 

“In Paris.” 

“When?” 

“In 1867.” 

“Can you give us his name?” 

“Monsieur Robert Le Brun.” 

This testimony was overwhelming. Miller'' read in the miens 
of his judges, that they were fully convinced of his identity. His 
heart sank within him, and he began to consider his case desper- 
ate in the extreme. From these reflections he was startled by the 
voice of the president. 

“Gentlemen of the court,” he addressed his colleagues, “the 
identity of the prisoner with Robert Le Brun was the only thing 
in the case to be established. I have here a certified copy of the 
trial in which Robert Le Brun was found guilty of high-treason 
and murder in the first degree. Either of these charges is amen- 
able by death; but it remains for this court to decide whether the 
law shall have its course. Corporal, take the prisoner from the 
presence of this court, that it may deliberate on his case.” 

The corporal motioned to the prisoner, and Miller, deeming any 
effort at resistance idle, suffered himself to be conducted from 
the room. He knew that his destiny was sealed, and that the 
court would pronounce him guilty. He knew that, in such a 
case, certain death would be his fate, and that only the time and 
mode of his execution would leave room for speculation. Now, 
to say that these reflections had nothing horrible to our friend, 
would be an untruth. We are all fond of life, and ill-prepared 
to meet a sudden death; but if this death assumes the fearful 
shape of the guillotine or, at best, the bullet, we are apt to view 
it with increased horror. Miller was sorely tried: his fortitude 
had never stood so severe a test before; but we must at the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


149 


same time record it to his credit that he came out victorious. 
Nor was it the stoical indifference to results which upheld him : 
he was, on the other hand, fully determined to struggle to the bit- 
ter end. The court might possibly sentence him to immediate 
execution; but of this he was not much afraid, since even the 
shortest court-martial generally allows its culprits a day or two 
of grace. If this time was accorded to him, he would use his 
hands as well as his brains for his liberation and succeed or per- 
ish in the attempt. Thus fortified and prepared for every exi- 
genc} 7 , he was enabled to show 3 calmness and unconcern which 
certainly disappointed his enemies, if they had expected to see 
him tremble or appeal to their mercy. The guard maintained a 
considerate silence, and on their solemn faces the prisoner 
thought to read their opinion concerning the issue of his trial. 

The deliberations of the court were very short. Ten minutes 
had hardly elapsed, when the corporal was summoned to pro- 
duce the prisoner. The faces of the judges were, if anything, 
more solemn than before, and an oppressive silence reigned in 
the room. This silence was at last broken by the judge, who 
said : 

“Robert Le Brun, alias Robert Miller, this court has duly and 
carefully considered the charges of which you stand accused, and, 
after such due and careful consideration, has found you guilty. 
It becomes now my painful duty to pronounce over the sentence 
with which the law punishes the crimes of which you stand con- 
victed. You shall be led hence into prison and remain there 
twenty four hours, which respite we grant you to prepare your 
soul for the meeting with your Maker. After the expiration of 
that time of grace, you shall be led from your prison upoji the 
rampart and shot to death by a dozen soldiers, to be selected for 
that service by special order, after which } 7 our body shall be in- 
terred on the place of execution. Is there any cause why this 
sentence should not be executed? If so, speak, or hereafter hold 
your peace.” 

A derisive smile plaj^ed around Miller’s lips. 

“There is a cause,” he said, calmly; “but this cause affects you 
not me. I do not reflect on the motives of this court; on the 
contrary, I believe its members honorable men, or I would not 


150 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


address them as I do. I repeat that I do not impugn their mo- 
tives; but I have my grave suspicions that they lent themselves 
hastily and unthinkingly to a action which, on due reflection, they 
must find incompatibe with their honor.” 

“Yes, with their honor” he repeated, when he discovered signs 
of indignation on the faces of the officers. “Or do you really 
imagine to serve the interests of your country and of justice by 
sitting in judgment over me in this hour of your national trial? 
Are you so blind as not to sea that you are mere tools in the 
hands of an unscrupulous scoundrel, who persecutes me with a 
hatred whose intensity is only surpassed by its causelessness? 
Do not believe that I say this for the purpose of securing an al- 
teration of your verdict. I know very well that a false sense of 
honor forbids you to undo a step which in itself violates the 
principles of honor. Still, I could not refrain from speaking, be- 
cause by doing so I take my only chance of revenge. My words 
will sink like daggers into your conscience, and sink more deeply 
the more you try to forget them. Gentlemen, I have done. May 
you never be doomed to die the death to which you have so read- 
ily condemned a fellow-soldier at the instigation of a rogue. 
Farewell !” 

On stepping from the room, he noticed the blush of shame or 
indignation on more than one cheek. He also saw how Dupre 
made an attempt to speak to several; but how they invariably 
turned their backs to him, and showed by their conduct that 
they felt the justice of Miller’s parting remarks. In the hall, the 
prisoner was again surrounded by the soldiers, who conducted 
him to the second story of a neighboring prison, where a narrow 
cell with an iron door and heavy bars of the same material in the 
only window, received him. No sooner was he alone, than he 
began to examine every feature of his prison, in the hope of dis- 
covering an avenue through which his escape might possibly be 
effected. He tried the strength of the door; he shook the win- 
dow-bars with all the strength at his disposal; but neither door 
nor bars would betray the slightest symptom of decay or weak- 
ness. He knocked against the walls, the floor, the ceiling, watch- 
ing with the keenest attention for something indicative of hoi- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


151 


lowness or thinness; hut his raps elicited nothing but the dull 
and heavy sound drawn from solid masonry. 

Miller continued these investigations for over an hour, until 
at last his limbs ached and the blood oozed from several bruises 
on his hands and lingers. Then seeing the uselessness of fur- 
ther efforts, he sank on the couch wdiich his cell contained, and, 
for a while, yielded to the despondency so natural under the cir- 
cumstances. 

“Father, thou art avenged,” he murmured to himself* “I 
thought to atone by offering my life for my country’s cause on 
the field of battle; but little did I dream to die by the hand of 
the executioner. But it will have to be, I suppose, and I merely 
reap in bitter sorrow what I sowed in folly. Nobody can escape 
his destiny; so I shall try to bear mine like a man. Nemesis, re- 
ceive thy victim !” 

— — 


CHAPTER XV. 

We left Alcibiades Dupre in the court-room, trying to explain 
to the officers the injustice of the prisoner’s charges. We saw 
how they turned their backs upon him, thereby indicating the 
estimation in which they held a man who had forced upon them so 
revolting a task. These open manifestations of contempt of 
course stung him to the quick; but they could but little mar the 
savage joy which he felt at the successful issue of his intrigue. 
He left the mansion and followed Miller at a distance, in order to 
ascertain the situation of his prison, and watch the faithful exe- 
cution of the sentence with a jealous eye. When the heavy door 
of the stronghold closed upon his unhappy victim, he drew a 
deep breath of relief. He knew that Miller -was safe there for 
the present, and that he could turn his attention to other matters 
which engaged his mind with equal vivacity. 

Alcibiades Dupre is no longer the man whose acquaintance we 
made at Froschweiler, at the beginning of the war. Then he was 
one of those indifferent beings, below rather than above medioc 


152 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


rity, who wend their way through life without giving or attract- 
ing much attention. Dull of comprehension, low in his tastes* 
inacessible to noble impulses, he had challenged the compassion 
of some, and the contempt of others, while a few sycophants 
and parasites, anxious to live on his father’s bounty, extolled 
his qualities and praised virtues in whose existence they were 
the last to believe. 

No one, however, had any idea of the dangerous qualities ly- 
ing dormant in this man. Some philosophers have advocated 
the theory that the character of the different brute-species is re- 
peated in man. If this is correct, Alcibiades Dupre was the 
faithful counterpart of the tiger. True, society had filed his 
teeth and trimmed his claws; but it had forgotten that time and 
growth restore the original sharpness of such weapons and that 
a tamed tiger remains nothing but a tiger, after all. As long as 
everything had gone smoothly with Monsieur Dupre, he had be- 
haved himself well enough ; but no sooner did his wishes, inclina- 
tions and designs come into hostile contact with those of others, 
than his natural ferocity awoke. We have already noticed an 
indication of his real character on the occasion of his interview 
with his cousin Pauline, for whom he then felt the only passion 
of which he was conscious. The war had developed other and 
worse passions since. It was his true element, the liot-bed in 
which the germs of his numerous vices sprouted and grew with 
a rapidity and vigor, truly marvelous. Or perhaps not marvelous 
either. The natural condition of the tiger is war; he wars upon 
his prey, and grows up in constant hostility with all the world. 
Need we wonder then that the human tiger thrives under circum- 
stances so well adapted to his nature? 

Dupre had, from the beginning, experienced a savage satisfac- 
tion at the frighful destruction of life and property which had 
followed in the wake of the warring hosts. He had, to his best 
ability, assisted in increasing this destruction, and killed and rob- 
bed, where this could be done with impunity. His interview with 
the minister at the mansion of the Sous-Prefect shows also, that 
he had assisted in stealing the millions which filled the pockets 
of ministers and contractors, but tapped the strength of the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 153 

French armies and rendered them powerless to resist the onset 
of their enemies* 

His love for Pauline Delmont had not abated; on the contrary, 
it had become a furious passion, in keeping with the general fe- 
rocity, newly acquired. Closely connected with this passion was 
the savage hatred which he bore to Robert Miller. Love, espe- 
cially rejected love, sharpens the eyes and wits of the dullest, and 
jealousy preys upon the obtuse as fiercely as upon the cunning. 
Nor cah it be denied that Alcibiades Dupre was cunning in a cer- 
tain way. He possessed that brutal sagacity which nature gives 
even to those animals whose stupidity has become a by-word. 

His hatred of Miller dated from ’67. Perhaps he had seen his 
cousin’s eyes dwell with too much ardor upon the face of the 
handsome German; perhaps he had even overheard their conver- 
sation on the eve of the memorable masquerade: however that 
may be, we know for certain that Dupre’s persecution of Miller 
dated from that moment. He had failed in Havre to secure his 
arrest; but the fact that his rival had been compelled to leave 
France, with no prospect of «an earty return, had in a measure al- 
layed his jealousy and increased the zeal with which he pushed 
his suit. Love is ennobling under all circumstances, and if Pau- 
line Delmont had returned his affection, the tiger in him might 
have remained asleep, and his teeth and claws remained harmless. 
For this we do not mean to blame Miss Delmont. We are all of 
us free agents, and the non-fulfilment of our wishes is a miser- 
able subterfuge for our depravity. 

We know that Dupre had received a clerk-ship in the commis- 
sariat. His duties had called him to Metz, where he would pro- 
bably have remained, if the battle of Gravelotte had not foresha- 
dowed an investment of the fortress. Leaving it just in season 
to a\oid the approaching Germans, he hastened to Nancy, which 
city he found already in their possession. However, as it is an 
open place, it was not subject to the restrictions of a fortress, and 
nothing prevented the runaway clerk from instituting those re- 
searches, to make which he had come to Nancy. 

His father owned a fine estate in the neighborhood of Nancy, 
and he conjectured naturally, that his relations would seek this 
nearest asylum in case the battle should have made the villa of 


154 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Froschweiler untenable. We know that this conjecture was cor- 
rect, but we have still to learn, how he found them and what oc- 
casioned their rapid departure. 

It was on the evening of Miller’s visit at the villa, half an hour 
after his departure, that Dupre suddenly burst into the house and, 
by his unexpected appearance, startled and frightened the ladies. 
His clothes were wet and soiled, mud spots covering both panta- 
loons and overcoat. His boots were thickly covered with yellow 
clay, as if he had lost his way and tramped regardlessly through 
field and garden. His hat had disappeared and his hair hung in 
dishevelled masses around a face of deadly paleness. Only the 
e} r es sparkled with such a feverish brilliancy that both the ladies 
could not help breaking into exclamations of surprise and inqui- 
ries as to the cause of his excitement and condition. To these 
inquiries he replied evasively, ignoring his own person and 
merely informing them that a German officer had been fired upon 
in the neighborhood, and that, in consequence, it would be im- 
possible for them to remain in the house. Troops would surely 
be there in half an hour, he said, to sack the place and revenge 
the attempt on the guilty and the innocent. He would therefore 
get the carriage ready without delay; for, thanks to his haste, he 
had gained enough of a start to elude the immediate pursuit of 
the Germans. 

What should the ladies do? Miss Aspasia received every word 
of her beloved and admired nephew as gospel-truth; but although 
Miss Delmont had grave doubts as to the motives of her cousim 
and plainly hinted her suspicion of his being implicated in the 
nefarious attack on the officer, she yielded for the simple reason 
that she lacked the power of resisting. She did not doubt the 
story of the firing; nor had she any reason to discredit Dupre’s 
predictions concerning the fearful vengeance which the Germans 
were likely to take on the neigborhood. So, yielding to neces- 
sity, she obeyed his injunctions and entered the carriage with a 
heavy sigh. This sigh, was it heaved on account of again ex- 
changing the comforts of a home. for an uncertain future; or on 
account of him whom she had so lately entertained at that home? 
She probably did not know herself; but she did know that she 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


155 


was miserable and longed for the moment, when the turmoil of 
war would cease and peace be reinstated in its ancient rights. 

Their journey was at once both perilous and fatiguing* Flee- 
ing before the rapid columns of the Germans, and avoiding the 
omnipotent Uhlans only with the greatest difficulty, they finally 
reached Chalons, where they met Dupre the elder, greatly reduced 
in bulk by the hardships of war, but delighted to see friends and 
relations whom he had almost given up as lost. At Chalons the 
family remained until McMahon evacuated the town and began 
his famous march on Sedan. Then they parted, Dupre the 
younger remaining in Chalons to transact some important busi- 
ness, the rest accompanying, or rather, heading the army and 
stopping at Bazailles, where Dupre owned a beautiful mansion on 
the outskirts of the village. Arriving there, they drew a deep 
breath of relief, anticipating the renewal of domestic comfort, 
and dreaming little of the new trials in store for them ; little of 
the calamities compared with which the past ones were trifles. 
In this villa the}^ remained until the morning of the first of Sep- 
tember, when the shells of the Germans began to fall in an alarm- 
ing proximity. For several days they had hoped against hope. 
Now and then the false report of a French victory revived their 
drooping spirits, and nothing but the Prussian shells were capa- 
ble of convincing them that the last army of France had been 
beaten and was then engaged in a retreat which the slightest 
panic would unavoidably change into a rout. 

The sun of the first had hardly risen on the unfortunate vil- 
lage, when the disappearance of the servants indicated that state 
of affairs which we designate by the term of anarchy. The bell 
was rung in vain. No servant-girl appeared to set the table; no 
coachman to prepare the carriage for a hasty retreat to Sedan. 
Monsieur Dupre had to take the latter office upon himself. It 
was a laborious task for the fat little man, and the perspiration 
ran profusely over his face, before he succeeded in hitching a 
horse before the light barouche which, on former occasions, had 
mediated the intercourse between Sedan and Bazailles. He 
mounted the box and was on the point of driving from the shed 
into the open court, when all at once a peculiar whiz in the air 
caused the horse to start and rise repeatedly on its hind feet* 


156 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Now, a practical and coureageous driver would perhaps have man- 
aged the animal; and even Mr. Dupre might have shown himself 
equal to the emergency, if a second shell had not, immediately 
afterwards, aggravated the situation by making its appearance. 
This second shell, not content with sounding its pleasant “whiz” 
struck a stable and exploded into a thousand fragments. This 
was too much for the self-possession of the horse. Taking the 
bit between his teeth, he cleared the yard with a few mighty 
bounds, and then started on a race, which must soon take the ve- 
hicle to Sedan, provided it escape the numerous perils which pre- 
sent themselves at every step. Here is a broken ambulance; there 
a crowd of fugitives, a battery, a provision train ; and Monsieur 
Dupre, in view of such obstacles, despairs of the possibility of 
evading them, and, in a short prayer, recommends his soul to 
Heaven. But the horse achieves what his master would have 
spoiled. Taking fortunately a by-road, less frequented and con- 
sequently less obstructed, and troubling himself very little about 
the legitimacy of the route pursued, he stops after the incredibly 
short period of fifteen minutes at the gate of Sedan. 

Before we follow the further movements of Dupre pere, let us 
go back a few hours, and see what has become of his worthy son. 
After gazing with satisfaction at the strong prison in which his 
rival was to spend his day of grace, Alcibiades had turned his 
steps towards the house which belonged to the family and was 
used as their residence during the short visits which they, now 
and then, paid the dull town. It was occupied by two servants, 
and, to judge from Alcibiades’ opening remarks, he had been there 
shortly before. 

“Have the ladies come, Jean?” he inquired eagerly. 

“No, monsieur; they have not.’* 

“And my father?” 

“Haint seen no sign of His Honor.” 

“The deuce take him!” was Alcibiades’ unfilial wish. “Where 
can he be? Where can they all be? If they aint here early to- 
morrow morning, Jean, we’ll have to go out and hunt them.” 

“But the bomb-shells, Monsieur Alcibiades?” 

“Oh ! never mind the bomb-shells, Jean; they have too much 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 157 

to do, to waste their time on such a useless rascal as you. But 
see here, Jean: have you any rum in the cellar?” 

“No, Sir; but there are several bottles of good old cognac.” 

“That will answer as well; so go and get a couple of bottles. 
In the meantime, Jeannette can get me something to eat; for I 
must confess that I am as hungry as a wolf.” 

The servant hastened to do his bidding, and soon some cold 
victuals with a bottle of cognac stood on the table, awaiting the 
attack which Alcibiades was evidently eager to begin. After he 
had finished his meal, he said: 

“Jean, I havn’t slept for two nights, and must take a nap be- 
fore I attend to any new business. Is there a bed ready in the 
house?” 

“Yes, Sir. You’ll find a bed ready in the brown room.” 

“Very well, you watch in the meantime, and waken me in case 
my father comes. Don’t } r ou bother me for any trifling nonsense, 
though.” 

“Aye, aye !” responded the servant, and Dupre withdrew to 
the indicated room, where he soon sank into such a sleep as a 
vigil of forty-eight hours is apt to produce. He slept through 
the balance of the day, and through the hours of evening, and 
the servants, meeting with nothing that seemed to require his 
attention, retired to bed themselves, leaving him in a state of to- 
tal oblivion likely to continue until morning. Indeed the first 
gray of dawn stole through the Venetian blinds, when Dupre 
opened his eyes and looked around with that bewildered stare 
which at first fails to recognize the whereabouts. All at once, 
however, he seemed to comprehend; for he jumped from the bed, 
and after arranging his clothes, which he had kept on all night, 
stepped to the door and called for Jean. The groom soon made 
his appearance, rubbing his eyes and inquiring in a sleepy tone 
of voice for his master’s wishes. 

“It must be late, Jean, is it not? I slept longer than I in 
tended.” 

“No, Sir, it aint very late,” replied Jean with a broad grin. “I 
should call it rather early.” 

“What do you mean, blockhead? Practice your wit upon 
somebody else. What time is it?” 


158 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

Before Jean could answer, he stepped to the window and looked 
at his watch. 

“Seven o’clock/’ he said. “Why that is early, to be sure. Is 
Jeannette geiting supper ready? I feel like eating again.” 

“Why, Monsieur Alcibiades, Jeannette can’t well get supper, 
considerin’ it aint evening, but morning.” 

“Morning, you dunce? You don’t mean to say that I have 
slept all night?” 

“Indeed you have, though,” said Jean with his broadest grin. 

“And why didn’t you waken me, blockhead?” 

“Because I didn’t fancy having my ears pulled. Your Honor 
said we shouldn’t bother you, and so we didn’t.” 

“Well, well, it makes no odds. Your stupidity has done no 
harm, this time. But now bestir yourselves! Kindle a fire and 
get breakfast ready without delay. I have a thousand things to 
do this morning, and cannot begin any too soon. Begone, be- 
gone !” 

Jean seemed to stand in wholesome awe of his master, for he 
fairly flew and inspired Jeannette with his own commendable zeal. 
Thirty minutes later a good breakfast stood before Monsieur 
Dupre, who again developed a good appetite, although he ate 
with that abstracted air which shows that our mind is wander- 
ing. When he was through, the clock on the mantle-piece struck 
eight. The lateness of the hour seemed to alarm him, for he 
jumped up and said: 

“Eight o’clock! By George, that will never do! I must make 
up for lost time by making things fly. Jean have you got a 
horse in the stable?” 

“Yes, Sir. Horses are plenty in town. You canhave them for 
the biddin’.” 

“Well, get one ready and put it to the light spring- wagon. I am 
going upon a short errand, and when I return I expect to find 
everything ready.” 

Dupre left the house and turned his steps towards the prison, 
where the object of his hatred was confined. He knew the 
strength of the place and had no definite suspicion that Miller 
could or would escape; yet he drew a breath of relief, when he 
learned that every thing was right and the culprit in safe keep- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


159 


ing. He left the prison without delay and had traversed half the 
distance to his house, when all at once he heard his name called, 
and, on turning, discovered his father, sitting alone in a barouche 
and driving towards the side -walk to greet his son. 

“Why, Alcibiades ! is it possible! How in the world — 

“Yes exactly: how in the world did you get here?” interrup- 
ted Dupre jun. snappishly* “Where did you leave the ladies? 
What has become of them?” 

“They are at Bazailles, Alcibiades*” 

“And you left them there, without any projection?” 

“Well, allow me to explain, my son. I had hitched this 
rascally horse to the back door to take the ladies in, when a 
bomb-shell came flying with its ugly “whiz, whiz” and caused 
this fellow to prance in fine style. Still — ” 

“A bomb-shell, you say?” exclaimed his son in consternation 
Are the Prussians so close upon Bazailles?” 

„They are indeed, Alcibiades. I should’nt wonder, if, by this 
time, they had taken it entirely.” 

“And under those circumstances you left the women ? Father, 
I marvel at you.” 

“But, my son, listen to my explanation. A second bomb- 
shell—” 

„Never mind your story now. Let me jump in and drive back 
to Bazailles. Perhaps we will be in time to save them.” 

“But Alcibiades, this confounded rascal of a beast wont go. 
I could’nt manage him at all, I tell you.” 

“No doubt, Sir,” was the derisive reply. “But depend upon it, 
I shall manage him. Make room, I tell you.” 

“No, no Alcibiades, I intend to get down first to give you a 
better chance. I am tired of the capers of this confounded 
beast, Sir.” 

“Well, come down then at once” said the Alcibiades with 
undisguised contempt. “Perhaps I’ll do better without you* 
Go to the house and tell the servants to get everything ready 
for our arrival. I shall fetch the women even if all the demons 
in creation are in league with the Prussians.” 

During these remarks, Dupre the father had descended from 
the barouche, and Dupre the son taken his place. No sooner 


160 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


had tlie latter seized hold of the reins, when he applied the whip to 
the back of the horse and made him start with a velocity truly 
alarming to the affectionate father. 

“Fine boy!” he muttered to himself. “He’ll teach him, how 
to run away, I bet you. But these shells, these ugly shells ! 
They are rude customers and no mistake. I hope they wont 
harm him though, nor the women either; indeed I do. But now 
let us go home and see, how Jean and his better half are faring, 
and whether they have anything decent to eat. This horrible 
ride has given me a keen appetite.” 

While he wends his way through the confusion and disorder 
which the approaching struggle had created in the town, let us 
follow Alcibiades, as he urges his steed with a skilled and steady 
hand towards the village of Bazailles. The roads had not im- 
proved since the morning, but so great was the advantage which 
skill and strength gave the son over the father, that all obstacles 
were avoided, and the village reached in a short time with entire 
safety. There seemed to be a lull in the gigantic struggle. True, 
a cannon-shot now and then shook the air, seconded by the cracks 
of a desultory musketry fire ; but compared with the usual up- 
roar of battle, the situation could be termed a tranquil one. On 
arriving at the villa, Alcibiades drove into an open shed and, af- 
ter tying the horse, hastened to the dwelling to learn what had 
become of his aunt and cousin. The house, however, seemed 
totally deserted, for in vain did Dupre hasten through the rooms 
of the different stories. Greatly discouraged he returned to the 
hall and was on the point of leaving the building, when he 
thought of raising his voice, in orders to see, whether, in that 
way, he could draw a sign of life from the lost ones. 

The attempt proved successful. No sooner had the echo of 
his voice died away, when a faint response from the cellar re- 
warded his perseverance. He hastened to the cellar-door and 
called again, and this time the response was more distinct than 
before. Dupre descended the steps and soon had the satisfac- 
tion of discovering the two missing ones in the act of obeying 
his call. Aspasia embraced him with great fervor and thanked 
him with the profusion of language peculiar to the worthy dame. 
Pauline also was evidently glad to be delivered from her damp 


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THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


161 


prison ; bat she expressed her satisfaction in terms so cold and 
measured, that they exercised a chilling influence upon her cousin. 
He told them to hurry up, since the present lull was likely to be 
of short duration. If the present opportunity was lost, he said, 
they might wait in vain for another. 

His admonitions quickened the motions of the women ; but no 
sooner had they reached the ground-floor, when the boom of can- 
non, the crack of musketry, and the shouts of thousands of ex- 
cited combatants announced the renewal of the conflict, and 
preached to them the necessity of dispatch wflth the most impres- 
sive eloquence. The ladies handed Dupre a pair of bundles con- 
taining the most indispensable articles of clothing, and the trio 
were on the point of leaving, when repeated blows against the 
front door became audible. At the same time, the yard behind 
the house resounded with the din of battle showing the fugitives 
that their line of retreat was imperiled. The ladies stood para- 
lyzed; but Dupre, in wdiorn the uproar of battle seemed to awaken 
a savage satisfaction, evinced no sign of fear. He hastened to 
a front window, in order to catch a glimpse of the situation. 
What he saw was not very encouraging. Dense masses of Ger- 
mans came pouring down the street, pressing upon the French, 
who fell back, scattering in the houses and keeping up from there 
a desultory fire upon their assailants. The blows against the 
door originated with them; but when Dupre unlocked the door 
to let them in, they had disappeared. A bullet sent through the 
aperture and grazing his shoulder, taught him the danger of his 
situation, and induced him to relock the door. At the same 
time, however, it roused his anger, and increased the excitement 
into which the uproar of tbe battle had thrown him. Watching 
the progress of the battle from a window, he was seized with an 
indomitable fury at the steady progress of the Germans. His 
eyes sparkled fiercely; his teeth gnashed; his hand clenched, and 
involuntarily his looks wandered around the room in searChjof a 
weapon, by the use of which he might give vent to his feelings. 
They had not to go far : there on the wall, hung the rifles and 
fowling-pieces which, in more peaceful days, had often accom- 
panied him on his hunting expeditions. To see them and seize 
a rifle was the work of a moment. Dupre was no longer master 


162 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


of his actions. His passions had overpowered his judgment, and 
in leveling the gun at the enemy he merely yielded to the savage, 
bloodthirsty disposition which formed one of the chief elements 
of his character. He felt as in a delirium. His hands jerked, 
and he could not have kept his finger from the trigger, if his 
life had depended on the action. The fatal movement was per- 
formed, the bullet sped on its way and pierced the heart of a 
brave German officer who marched at the head of his men, ani- 
mating them by word and action. But his death was not the 
only consequence of the shot. The shattered pane, the little 
cloud of smoke betrayed to the assailants the position of the 
shooter, and a yell of rage conveyed to him the intelligence of 
his discovery. A moment later every window in the house was 
riddled by bullets, and the assault commenced. Frightened at 
the consequences of his rash deed, Dupre threw the rifle into a 
corner, and rushed to the place where he had left his helpless 
companions. 

“Come, come!” he cried with frantic eagerness; “if they find 
us here we are lost.” 

Paying no further attention to the bundles, he led the way to 
the back-door and hurried down a flight of stairs into the yard. 
The place was empty then, and, for a moment, Dupre entertained 
the hope of being able to reach the carriage and effect his escape. 
Soon, however, he discovered his mistake; for not only did the 
enraged Germans penetrate from both sides into the yard, but 
the house also had been taken in the twinkling of an eye, and 
through its back-door a stream of infuriated pursuers began to 
pour. At the sight of the fugitives, fifty muskets were simulta- 
neously discharged at them; but, thanks to the excitement of 
the men, not a single bullet took effect. It stopped the flight of 
the trio, however ; Dupre and Pauline facing their pursuers, and 
Aspasia throwing herself on her knees and imploring their mercy. 
This, however, might have been of little avail; for several mus- 
kets had already been raised to dispatch the supplicant as well 
as her companions, when the arrival of an officer secured them a 
momentary respite. 

“What is this?” the new-comer cried authoritatively. “Are: 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 163 

you not ashamed, men, to slaughter women? Back with you and 
let them go.” 

“But they fired upon us from the house and killed our cap- 
tain.” 

“Not these women, I presume. At any rate, do not kill them 
now, hut take them to the rear and give them a fair trial. Come, 
lads, let us be off, or our comrades will out-distance us and be in 
Sedan before we know it.” 

The men cheered, and drove their prisoners with words and 
blows into the main street. There a sad sight met their eyes. 
The body of the dead captain was carried to the rear, and, at the 
sight of their beloved officer, the men were seized with a new 
frenzy of rage. They, once more, turned upon their prisoners, 
and only the command of the superior officer, which, at that mo- 
ment, called the soldiers to their ranks, saved them from certain 
destruction. 

I need not inform the reader that we have already witnessed 
this moment of deliverance, He has before this discovered that 
yon culprits in the battle of Bazailles, and the victims of the pre- 
sent dilemma, are the same persons. We left them then on their 
way to Sedan, and consequently can now proceed to chronicle 
their safe arrival at that place. The principal roads were so 
blocked up that even a skilful driver like Dupre would have failed 
in getting through ; but, thanks to his great familiarity with the 
region, its nooks and corners, and its by-ways, they reached the 
fortress without serious injury. Their perils had been as numer- 
ous as imminent. Besides the dangers already recorded, they 
had many hair-breadth escapes from the Prussian shells, which 
fell fast and thick on all sides. We, therefore, need not wonder 
that a sigh of relief stole from the breast of Dupre, as well as 
the women, when the comparative comfort of their own home 
received them. Aspasia and Pauline delivered themselves with 
unalloyed satisfaction to the luxuries of the house, and even the 
former received, with a good grace, the excuses of her brother, 
who expressed his sincere sorrow at having been unabie to pro- 
tect them. 

Alcibiades alone refused to abandon himself to the enjoyment 
of the hour. No sooner had the ladies entered the house, when 


164 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


he looked at his wateh, and discovered, to his astonishment, that 
it pointed to a quarter past ten* Miller had been sentenced about 
twelve o’clock, and if he wanted to witness the death-struggle of 
his victim, he had no time to lose. So he merely informed his 
father that important business called him away, but that he 
should try to be back for dinner. 

After that, he hastened away in the direction of the prison, and 
soon disappeared in the archway through which he expected to 
see his rival march to his execution before the expiration of one 
short hour. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Meanwhile Pauline and her aunt lay on a lounge in a state of 
utter exhaustion. Jeannette had received them with great mani- 
festations of delight, and done everything in her power to allevi- 
ate their distress. She had prepared toast and hot punch, and 
insisted upon the ladies’ partaking of all her dainties. While 
they ate and rested, she gave them the gossip of the day. A 
great number of “Prussiens” had been captured, she said, and 
one of them sentenced to be shot, on account of old offenses 
against the government. 

“Poor fellow!” she exclaimed with pitying accent. “He is so 
handsome and noble looking! It is a pity to kill him; I am sure 
Mademoiselle will say the same thing, for she has seen him be- 
fore.” 

“/ seen him ?” said Pauline, becoming attentive. “What do 
you mean, Jeannette? Where have I seen him?” 

“Whyl does Mademoiselle forget our adventure on the road 
near Froschweiler? Does she not mind how I trembled to meet 
the Prussians, fearing they would turn out devils incarnate? Our 
parson had told me so, you know; but I know better now, and 
think they are right clever people, and handsome, too, and — ” 

Pauline had, by this time, recovered from her first surprise. 

“Stop, stop, Jeannette!” she exclaimed, eagerly. “Tell me, 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 165 

rather, what this adventure has to do with the prisoner sentenced 
to be shot. You do not mean to say — ” 

“And indeed I do, Mademoiselle. The prisoner and one of 
our liberators are one and the same person. I ought to know, I 
think; for I saw him with my own eyes. You don’t see such 
noble-looking chaps every day, you see; and so — ” 

“But, Jeannette, pray stop your rambling;” cried Pauline, be- 
coming more and more alarmed. “Tell me which of the two 
has been sentenced. It wasn’t — ” 

She hesitated to give utterance to a harrowing thought; but 
Jeannette drew her own conclusions, and said: 

“Indeed it was, Mademoiselle. The best looking of the two. 
He speaks French like a Parisian, and ’tis him indeed they are 
going to shoot at twelve o’clock to-day.” 

Pauline sprang to her feet, as if a powerful galvanic battery 
had been applied to her body. Robert Miller to be shot at twelve 
o’clock, and she so powerless to help him! The thought was 
sickening. What should she do? Should she hasten to the 
place of execution, and cover with her body the bosom of the 
man whom, in this fearful crisis, she recognized as the great and 
only idol of her heart? Alas! She knew too well the iron laws 
of war to hope for a deliverance of the prisoner on the place of 
execution by her interference; but if this expedient was of no 
avail : was there no other way of saving him? might she not, by 
her fervent supplication, move the heart of one powerful endugh 
to stay the execution? Her pulse flew with a feverish rapidity, 
as she vainly racked her brain for an expedient in this dreadful 
strait. 

While she still thought and studied in vain, her ears listened 
to the further details of the sad story, as Jeannette gave them. 
She had been out, the evening before the last, to see the prison- 
ers of whom everybody talked. When she got near the gate, 
she was surprised to see, amongst the captives, two officers whose 
faces looked familiar to t her and whom, on stepping nearer, she 
recognized as their benefactors. She could not talk to them; but 
feeling a natural interest in them, she repeated her visit at the 
gate the next evening. Then and there she learned, to her hor- 
ror, that one of the officers — Miller, the people called him — had 


166 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


been tried for murder and high treason, and sentenced to be shot. 
When she arrived at this part of her story, she cast an anxious 
look around, and lowered her head and voice, before she ex- 
claimed : 

“And who do you think is at the bottom of all this? No- 
body but young master, and — ” 

Again Pauline became the victim of a powerful emotion. 

“Is it possible?” she exclaimed. “But stop, you need not de- 
fend your statement; for I am already too well convinced of its 
correctness. This is not his first attempt to take Miller’s life: 
the bullet aimed at Miller, near Nancy, came from my cousin’s 
hand as well.” 

“Oh! Pauline, be charitable!” exhorted Aspasia. “How can 
you have the heart to accuse your cousin of such a dreadful 
deed?” 

“How can I, Aunt? Well, I have no time to argue, now. Can 
you not rather counsel me as to the steps that must be taken to 
spare Miller’s life?” 

“Indeed I cannot, Pauline; but it I could, I would not inter- 
fere between J ustice and a criminal who probabty deserves his 
punishment.” 

Pauline started back with amazement and indignation. Could 
it be that a member of her sex, a woman, should so far deny her 
gentler feelings as to prefer the dictates of stern justice to those 
of pity and compassion? If her aunt felt thus, how could she 
hope to gain counsel and assistance from her uncle, a man who 
held ease and comfort above all other goods, and naturally felt 
a grudge against the men who had deprived him of these goods? 
No! she must not expect to receive anj T succor from her friends! 
If anything was to be done, it must emanate from her alone, and 
unaided by foreign agencies, must it be carried out. With this 
conviction, resolution takes the place of the former hesitancy. A 
thought flashes through her brain, and, seizing hat and shawl, 
she says to the girl : 

“Jeannette, have you the courage to assist me ? I am deter- 
mined to make an effort in his behalf : will you accompany me?” 

“I will,” said the girl; “and with all my heart. I’m not half 
so much afraid of the Prussians as I used to be.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


167 


“Be quick, then, for we have no time to lose. Oh good heav- 
ens! I fear it is too late already.” 

While Jeannette obeyed her injunction, Miss Dupre endeavored 
to change her resolution. 

“Pauline! my good girl! this is madness!” she exclaimed. 
“What will Alcibiades think when he finds you absent? Con- 
sider — ” 

“Stop, Aunt Aspasia !”' Pauline cried almost sternly. “My cou- 
sin's opinion is very indifferent to me, and even your advice I 
must disregard, if it differs from my resolution,” 

“But what will you do?” 

“I prefer not to tell you; for if my family refuse to assist me, 
I shall, at least, take good care to secure myself against their in- 
terference. Are you ready, Jeannette? Ver} r well, my girl, let 
us proceed.” 

“But my dear Pauline! — ” 

The departure of the mistress and the, servant cut short all 
further remonstrances. Pauline drew down her veil and walked 
with so quick a step that Jeannette could hardly keep up with 
her. 

“Dear me, how fast you walk!” she gasped. “Won’t you tell 
now where we are going?” 

“We are going to the mansion of the Sous-Prefect.” 

“And what are we going to do there?” the girl inquired, won- 
deringly. 

“I hardly know myself, Jeannette. All I know is that this 
horrid murder must not be permitted, and I trust that God Al- 
mighty will guide me right and make me his instrument in foil- 
ing the machinations of an unscrupulous scoundrel. But listen! 
Eleven o’clock! Oh mercy! One more hour! I tremble when 
I think how much must be achieved in that period to save a life! 
And if I fail! Oh horrible thought too shocking to be enter- 
tained! If 1 fail, I shall hasten to the place of execution and 
die with him, since they refuse me the happiness of living with 
him. Come, Jeannette, be quick, my girl: here is the building.” 

The guard at the entry paid little attention to the two women, 
as they shy'y stole up the broad steps, and entered the hall. There 


168 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


they saw that confusion and anarchy ruled in the halls of govern- 
ment as well as in the streets. True, a few sentinels were sta- 
tioned here and there; but nevertheless the ingress to as well as 
egress from all the rooms seemed entirely unimpeded. Officers 
of all ranks, civilians of all classes, men of all ages rushed up 
and down the stairs, and seemed altogether too occupied with 
themselves to pay attention to others. Pauline was afraid to ask 
questions; but noticing a flight of steps more densely crowded 
than the others, she ascended it, giving Jeannette a hint to fol- 
low her. Her appearance seemed to attract some attention, for 
she and J eannette were the only women in the crowd. A curious 
glance was now and then cast upon the veiled figure, that stole 
so noiselessly and yet so determinedly through the crowd. 

At the top of the stairs they entered into a spacious ante cham- 
ber, from which several doors opened into adjacent apartments. 
The central door was hung with red velvet and two sentinels con- 
trolled the entry. 

The men who approached this door had to communicate the 
nature of their errands to a gentleman who carried them to some 
person in the inner room, and either reported them as rejected 
or granted. 

“The emperor!” thought Pauline, and from that moment her 
resolution was formed. There, in that room, was the only man 
who could stay the judgment which at the expiration of the 
next sixty minutes would deprive her of her dearest friend. But 
how should she accomplish it ? There were many ahead of her 
who waited impatiently for the privilege of seeing the emperor. 
Could she wait until her turn? Would she be permitted to en- 
ter at all? Oh! these agonizing thoughts! Thoughts well adap- 
ted to drive the thinker mad! Minute after minute rolls into 
the lapse of Time, and no prospect of the crowd’s getting thin- 
ner. This will never do ! Despair seizes the waiting maiden, and, 
ignoring the diffidence of her sex, she steps to the foremost ap- 
plicant, and says: 

“Pardon, Monsieur! Will you allow me His Majesty’s ear be- 
fore you? I am a lone, unhappy woman, whose only chance of 
happiness depends upon the fulfilment of her prayer. Life and 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 169 

death depend upon a few minutes interview with the emperor: will 
you, under these circumstances, grant my request?’ * 

She looked at him with a steady gaze, her flushed countenance 
and prayerful look pleading with greater eloquence than her 
words. Fortunately, he seemed capable of appreciating uncom- 
mon motives as well as actions, for he bowed politely and said : 

“You are a lady, Madame: therefore I grant your request as a 
matter of course. But, (excuse the question) is Madame cer- 
tain that she will be received?” 

“Mon Dieu! No, I am not. But if the emperor refuses to 
see me, I have no other alternative but to deliver myself to the 
arms of death!” 

“That would be a poor resting-place for one so young,” the 
stranger replied with a smile. “If Madame will accept my ser- 
vices as counsel, I shall take pleasure in introducing you to His 
Majesty, and defend your case.” 

“Oh! Monsieur, how generous! But I knew that God would 
not forsake me. Listen to my story, Monsieur, and you will see 
how worthy of your patronage is the cause I advocate.” 

“I believe it, Madame; but here comes General Reille. We 
must take advantage of our chance as long as we are able. You 
can tell me your story when you tell the emperor. General, have 
the goodness to announce me and a client to His Majesty.” 

“Exactly, Excellence,” replied the adjutant with a somewhat 
dubious smile, and disappeared. A minute later he beckoned 
the pair into the presence of Napoleon. The emperor sat in an 
easy-chair, clad in the brilliant uniform of his guards, over which 
he wore a large cloak of dark blue. His face was pale, and the 
restless motions of his hands and feet, indicated a greatly agita- 
ted mind. On seeing the announced visitor in the company of 
so unexpected a person, he raised his hand and inquired with a 
touch of wonderment: 

“Eh bien, Monsieur : what can we do for you? You appear in 
the role of a counselor, to-day.” 

“I do, Sire; but strange as it sounds, I am as ignorant of the 
cause I plead, as Your Majesty.” 

“Ah ! you are playing masquerade,” said Napoleon with a forced 
smile. “That may be a very pleasant change for the sameness 


170 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


of war; but unfortunately we have no leisure to enjoy it. Have 
the goodness to speak more explicitly.” 

“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon for being so trifling. My of- 
fense was entirely uintentional. This young lad}^ can, in a few 
words, explain the nature of her errand.” 

Pauline had trembled with impatience at this delay. She was 
now too well pleased with this opportunity to lose it, and, step- 
ping forward, she said with a deep and graceful courtesy: 

“Your Majesty sees in me the humble petitioner for a life. 
When the clock strikes twelve a noble heart will, cease to beat 
for an old offense, which nothing but the gratification of private 
revenge has drawn from oblivion. Oh! Sire, see me here at your 
feet, and grant my petition for a life so harmless to you and so 
dear to me! Sire, in the name of God, before whose throne we 
all hope for mercy on the day of judgment, have compassion on 
the culprit, and dispatch me to him with a message of mercy 
worthy of so great a ruler!” 

She had thrown herself at his feet, and lay there the personifi- 
cation of humble supplication. Napoleon was moved; but he 
was also puzzled. 

“I do not understand, Mademoiselle,” he said. “I know noth- 
ing of a culprit that was to be executed to-day. Of whom do 
yo u speak?” 

“Oh, I can now explain, Sire,” said Pauline’s counselor. “It 
is well that I was ignorant of the nature of your case, or I might 
have hesitated the commission.” 

“The culprit is a great criminal then?” inquired Napoleon. 

“Oh, no! I did not mean that. He is not dangerous individu- 
ally — but collectively. In other words, he is a German, a pris- 
oner taken before Beaumont.” 

“And sentenced for any late offense within our jurisdiction ?” 

“No Sire; for a conspiracy into which youthful folly rather 
than malice, drove him years ago.” 

“He has a warm advocate,” said the emperor, smiling. “Who 
played informer in his case?” 

A deep blush mantled her cheeks. 

“I am sorry to tell you,” she said. “My own cousin, Alcibia- 
des Dupre, played that disgraceful role.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


171 


“And for wliat reason? 7 ’ 

“I know of none, Sire.” 

“I think I do,” replied Napoleon with a smile. “But we surely 
must spoil his game for him. Monsieur, will you take it upon 
yourself to see this righted. I’ll write 3 T ou a short reprieve which 
you may carry to the place of execution. The time is twelve o’ 
clock, you say? Really, then, 3^011 have no time to lose. Here 
is an order to postpone the execution twent3^-four hours. I shall 
see that the case is thorough^ sifted and justice done to all par- 
ties.” 

With these words he handed Pauline a paper which he had 
drawn up and signed. The poor girl was almost beside herself 
with jo3 r , her desire of showing her gratitude and of reaching 
the fatal spot in time struggling for the mastery. Napoleon saw 
it. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said gravcty; “for there is no occasion. 
I fight the Germans on the battle-field, but not on the scaffold. 
Who knows how soon I may be in a position to claim their mercy. 
It would not look well to come with blood-stained hands. Too 
much of it has been shed alread3\” 

He turned and Pauline and her companion hastity left the room 
and the palace. 

“It is a quarter of twelve,” he said looking at his watch. “Let 
us hurry to the place of execution or we may be too late.” 

Pauline quickened her steps ; but suddenly she came to a stop, 
and said with a frightened mien : 

“But this place — where is it? I do not know.” 

“Nor I; that is vexing. But do 3 r ou know the prison in which 
3 r our friend was confined?” 

“I don’t, but Jeannette does.” 

“Then let her lead the wa3 r . Perhaps the3^ havn’t taken him 
away 3 T et.” 

“Oh, heaven grant it!” exclaimed Pauline; and a moment after- 
wards they were on their wa3^ to the prison. On their arrival, 
they learned that the captive had been removed fifteen minutes 
ago, and that his guard had marched him down the street in a 
southern direction. The jailor also knew that he was to be shot 
somewhere on the ramparts; but could not speedy the place. He 


172 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


had no doubt, however, that the inquirers could easily ascertain 
the route which the squad had taken, as a large mob had accom- 
panied them on their way; stragglers of which could even then 
be seen in the streets. 

This information was rather discouraging; but delay being fa- 
tal, they continued their way, trusting to good luck and diligent 
inquhy. Nor were their efforts quite unsuccessful ; for every now 
and then they found a trace of the party, distinct enough to en- 
courage them to new efforts. The rampart, however, was reached 
without obtaining a definite clue of their final destiny, and when 
the clock on the cathedral struck twelve, they were as far from 
their aim as ever. At the first stroke, Pauline uttered a cry and 
trembled so violently, that her companion had to support her, to 
keep her from falling. 

“Take heart !” he cried. “It may not be too late yet, if we con- 
tinue our efforts. If you give way under your emotions, we may 
as well give up at once.’ ’ 

“I am strong! I am strong!” gasped the poor girl, drawing ra- 
ther than following her companion. A minute afterwards they 
turned a corner, and came upon an open place, on the far-end of 
which the dreaded tragedy was just put in scene. Their standing 
point was rather elevated, and they could look over the heads of 
the spectators, and see all the principal actors of the piece. French 
infantry formed three lines of a rectangle, two sides of which 
were considerably longer than the other. The nearside was oc- 
cupied by twelve soldiers, evidently ordered to execute the sen- 
tence, while the far end was open, showing merely the tall and 
manly figure of the prisoner. The spectators surrounded three 
sides of the rectangle, taking good care to keep out of the line 
of shooting, but yelling and hooting and insulting the prisoner 
to the best of their abilit}'. Everything seemed ready for the ex- 
ecution. The arms of the captive seemed to be tied on his back; 
the soldiers had their guns levelled, and the commanding officer 
his sword lifted as if ready to speak the fatal word — 

The feelings of Pauline at this fearful sight can be more easily 
imagined than described. Her heart ceased to beat; a violent 
tremor shook her body, and the ground appeared to recede from 
under her feet. She struggled hard to overcome her agitation, 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


173 


but to no avail. The arm which she tried to raise, fell powerless 
to her side, and when she endeavored to utter a warning cry, her 
tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth. A moment 
afterwards a dark veil laid itself across her eyes; she tottered and 
a heavy weight on his arm showed her companion that a benign 
swoon had for the present freed her from all grief. 

Long as it took me to chronicle these events and emotions, they 
had hardly occupied a second. But the protector of the un- 
happy girl felt that the loss of another second might seal the 
fate of the prisoner. Suffering her body to slide to the ground, 
he sprang forward, uttering at the same time a shout well calcu- 
lated to attract the attention of the soldiers. It was too late! 
Before he could take a second step towards the scene of action, 
a flash blinded his eyes, and a heavy report sounded in his ears* 
A feeling of nausea compelled him to stop ; he covered his eyes 
and turned around to avoid the sight of the dreadful spectacle 
which he knew to be in store for him. At the same time an un- 
accountable shudder crept over his bod}^, shaking him like a rag- 
ing fever. He staggered towards the body of his protegee, in or- 
der to be the first to break to her the dreadful news on her return 
to consciousness. All at once, however, he stops. What is this? 
What does the cry of woe behind his back signify? He hears 
sounds of pain, screams of rage and shrieks of terror. Some- 
thing unusual must have happened. He turns, and a fearful sight 
meets his eyes. The prisoner whose bloody corpse he expects to 
behold stretched on the ground, stands erect; but they who, a 
moment ago, held their rifles aimed at his breast, lie low, welter- 
ing in their blood, some dead, some dying. Nor are they alone. 
A mysterious dispensation seems to have visited the spectators 
as well as actors. Men in blouses lie mingled with soldiers; yes, 
even women and children count amongst the victims. He rubs 
his eyes to chase away the fearful vision; but the attempt is idle, 
for a second look shows him the same sickening sight. However, 
he is neither weak nor timid. With a firm step he hastens to- 
wards the spot, to find the clue to this mysterious riddle. The 
commanding officer has escaped the general destruction. To 
him the stranger turns and asks: 


174 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Mon Dieu, what does this signify? For the love of God, tell 
me what has happened?” 

“Oh, we have simply exchanged roles,” replied the other with 
a ghastly smile. “The executioners have become the executed. 
Behold the effects of a Prussian shell!” 

A light dawned upon Pauline’s protector. The flash, the re- 
port, the subsequent slaughter : everything was explained now, 
and a secret awe at this mysterious dispensation filled his soul. 

“A timely interference,” he muttered, handing the imperial de- 
cree to the officer. “But for it we should have been too late.’’ 

The brow of the officer darkened. 

“Why wasn’t this put sooner into my hands? It would have 
saved the lives of a dozen brave comrades.” 

“It was only issued twenty minutes ago. We tried our best 
to reach you in time, but, alas ! were too late to avoid this catas- 
trophe. I think I see in it the retribution of a higher power 'for 
a wanton and untimely act of mock-justice.” 

“I did not like it any more than you,” said the officer, gloom- 
ily. “Still we soldiers have no choice. I was ordered to the exe- 
cution and had to obey the distasteful mandate. But what is this? 
What does she want?” 

These questions were elicited by Pauline’s movements. The 
poor girl had recovered from her swoon. Her first gaze had been 
into the face of Jeannette, who bent over her with affectionate 
solicitude. Then came a rush of thoughts, bringing with them 
the recollection of the recent past. She rose with a nervous 
start, and cast a glance at the spot where she was afraid to meet 
a fearful spectacle. She too beheld an erect form instead of a 
mangled body; she too doubted the correctness of her vision; but 
when she had gazed a second with bewildered eyes, she uttered 
a cry of wild delight, and ran towards the prisoner with the agi- 
lity of the antelope. He saw her coming ; but his features re- 
flected by no means the rapture beaming forth from hers. His 
brows were contracted, and a bitter smile contorted his lips. Pau- 
line, however, did not notice it; she saw only that he was living, 
unhurt, intact. A great joy filled her heart to overflowing. It 
silenced her tongue; it drove tears into her eyes; it caused her 
limbs to shake like the leaves of the aspen. When she reached 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


175 


the place where. Miller stood, she sank upon her knees, folded her 
hands, and looked into his face with eyes from which the tears 
ran in copious streams. But while she cried, she laughed at the 
same time, and her heavy tongue struggled for utterance. 

“Alive! sound! unharmed!” she muttered, stretching her hands 
towards him with yearning affection. Then, seeing that he was 
still bound, she sprang to her feet, fumbled for her pocket, and 
drew therefrom a pocket-knife, which her trembling fingers could 
hardly open. 

“Shame on them!” she cried, her eyes flashing indignantly. 
“How could they insult you so, you , who know so well how to 
face death! But now you are loose, and safe, and will soon be 
altogether free! Oh God, this is joy! this is bliss! more bliss 
than I am capable of bearing! Save my poor head from reel- 
mg!” 

Her words, her manners, her actions had in a measure softened 
the expression of his face. Still it looked gloomy and suspicious 
enough, when he replied: 

“I fail to comprehend you, Madam. If this is acting, I must 
confess that you play 3^0111* role to perfection. Onlyr you play so 
many roles that I am at a loss to divine your true character.” 

Pauline started back with a mien in which surprise and grief 
were strangely blended. 

“This to me?” she cried reproachful^. “To me, who suffered 
tortures for 3’our sake, such as a hundred bullets cannot possibly 
inflict? To me, who so far forgets her maidenly dignity, as to press 
her solicitude upon a stranger, and an enemy of my country in 
the bargain? Oh! justl3 T am I punished for yielding to an impulse 
so unreasonable; to an affection so ill-requited!” 

Miller was the prey of conflicting emotions. 

“Oh Miss Delmont!” he cried; “what shall I think of this? 
How shall I reconcile your conflicting actions? where find the 
key for this enigma? You profess the most unbounded joy at 
my preservation and 3 T et I behold you in close alliance with him, 
who persecutes me with the most untiring persistency. The bul- 
let of the assasin sought my life at Nanc} r — and his foot-prints 
were traced to your dwelling. Here a scoundrel secures my con- 
demnation for an old offense, and again I meet you on the scene 


176 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


of execution, where you would even behold my bloody corpse, if 
a German shell had not interrupted their bloody sport. But this 
sport is only interrupted, not suspended. See, they are getting 
ready for a resumption of their work. Step aside to make room 
for their bullets, and report to your associate that you found me 
strong in my hour of trial. See! there he is! I thought he 
would be, for the vulture is always ready to devour his victim. 
Go, temptress! go! This is no time to listen to your alluring in- 
sinuations. I need the few minutes left me to make my peace 
with my Maker. Go!” 

Pauline wrung her hands in deep distress. 

“Oh this is bitter! this is cruel!” she cried with heart-rending 
accents. “What must I do to undeceive you, to prove to j r ou that, 
though allied to yon monster by the ties of blood, I am not his 
kindred in disposition, and a stranger to his bloody designs. 
Would I be here, Robert, if I rejoiced in your destruction?” 

“Why not?” he said with a bitter laugh. “They say that some 
of your country-women would gladly drink our heart’s blood.” 

“But I procured a respite for you, Robert, a respite written in 
the emperor’s own hand. They will not kill you now, but lead 
you back to your prison, until — ” 

“Until the} r are ready to take me out a second time and finish 
their work. I do not thank you for this interference. I do not 
thank you for the prolongation of my trial. Go ! go ! I say, and 
do no longer embitter my last hours by your presence!” 

This was too much for the poor girl. She fainted a second 
time, and would have fallen to the ground, if her protector had 
not, at that moment, come up and caught her in his arms. Ro- 
bert cast a glance at her, in which love and bitterness struggled 
for the mastery, and it is hard to say how he would have acted, 
if the soldiers had not, just then, closed around him, and de- 
prived him of the power to follow his inclinations. The men 
eyed him with savage glances portending evil, and some of them 
muttered curses and menaces sufficiently loud to strike the ear 
of the commanding officer. He told Robert that the emperor 
had reprieved him for twenty-four hours, and then ordered his 
men to form and march the captive back to prison. However 
there was some hesitancy on their part. The French army was 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


177 


rapidly changing into a mob. Discipline began to give way to 
insubordination and to make matters worse in this instance, out- 
side insinuations threatened to fan the fatal spark into a flame. 

“Never mind him, boys,” cried a voice, which Miller recognized 
as that of his pursuer. “Give it to the Dutch dog, now! Kill 
him on the spot ! Will you show more mercy than the Prussian 
shells? Down with him, and hurrah for France!” 

One symptom of fear, or even of hesitation on the part of the 
officer, and Robert’s death w’ould have been certain. But fortun- 
ately that officer was equal to the situation. Drawing his revol- 
ver, he cried with a penetrating voice : 

“Silence! I command here, and woe to him who dares to dis- 
obey me. I’ll shoot him down and half-a-dozen others if need be. 
This man’s life has been entrusted to me, and the road to his de- 
struction goes only over my corpse. Attention men! Form 
ranks! Ready!” 

At this moment Robert himself interfered. 

“Let them have their way,” he addressed the officer. “Why 
prolong this struggle another day? This seeming mercy is only 
cruelty in disguise. Come on, ye men, and do your worst. A 
true German fears neither your bullets nor your daggers.” 

“Attention !” the officer continued without heeding Miller’ s~ap- 
peal. “Shoulder arms! March! March !” 

Once more discipline exercised its influence. Yielding to the 
stern command, the men put themselves in motion, and, a moment 
afterwards, Robert was on his way back to prison. Gloomy and 
despondent as he was, he could not help noticing the growing 
signs of disorder and anarchy. The streets swarmed with sol- 
diers who had already stripped off all bonds of discipline. Some 
were drunk, and others continually broke into taverns and pri- 
vate houses to become so too. Their curses and the screams of 
the helpless citizens, formed a fit accompaniment to the whizzing 
and bursting shells which fell on the doomed town as thickly as 
a hail-shower. The commander of the small squad had to use 
alleys and lanes, in order to avoid the obstacles which obstructed 
the principal thoroughfares, and even then they only managed to 
reach the prison-gates with the greatest difficulty. The officer 
heaved a sigh of relief on their arrival, and well he mighty for 
12 


178 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


soon afterwards the last spark of consciousness of duty died out 
in the bosom of his soldiers, and, fifteen minutes later, they were 
members of the rabble which made the streets of Sedan insecure. 

But to return to poor Pauline. When she awoke, she gazed 
into the familiar, but to her disgusting features of her cousin. 
His sight did more to restore her strength than any restorative 
could have done. Freeing herself from the supporting arms of 
her protector, she raised herself with a vigor and energy which 
greatly surprised that gentleman. Perhaps she had the intention 
of addressing Dupre, for her brows contracted, and her lips 
opened as if ready for utterance; but he anticipated her and 
said : 

“Ah ! Miss Pauline in the role of the heroine! You must have 
a decided predilection for adventures, for hardly have I fetched 
you out of one scrape, when I find you plunged into another. 
But this will never do, Mademoiselle* I have no desire whatever 
to play Don Quixote on your account.” 

A look of indescribable contempt was Pauline’s only answer. 

u You play Don Quixote?” she asked, scornfully. “You meant 
Sancho Panza, did you not ? But whether one or the other, it 
matters little; for henceforth I release you from all your obliga- 
tions of making a knave or a fool of yourself on my account.” 

The veins on Dupre’s forehead swelled until they stood out 
like whip-cords; but before he could give vent to the feeling of 
fury which evidently possessed him, Pauline spoke again. Turn- 
ing to the stranger, she said : 

“Monsieur, I have presumed on your time and patience so long 
that I hesitate to impose upon you any longer. But the presence 
of this fellow (she emphasized the word) compels me to ask 
your company to my residence. It is not far, and, as a reward 
for your generosity, } r ou will for ever possess the gratitude of a 
poor and helpless girl.” 

The stranger readily complied with her request* Choosing the 
least frequented streets, the couple soon succeeded in reaching 
the house, where Aspasia awaited her niece’s return with fear and 
trembling. The stranger saw, from the manner in which Pauline 
treated Dupre, that something was wrong between them; but, be- 
ing’delicate, he abstained from asking questions, and soon the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


179 


door separated him from a girl, for whom he had formed a sin- 
cere regard and attachment, in spite of the shortness of their 
acquaintance. 

When Pauline had reached the house, she at once retired to 
her room, and there threw herself upon her bed, dressed as she 
was. The unnatural strength which had carried her through so 
many trying scenes, now suddenly forsook her, and made room 
for a despondency, a feeling of despair, which no consolations 
on the part of Jeannette could mitigate. Aspasia attempted sev- 
eral times to gain access to her room; but the positive order of 
the sufferer prevented Jeannette from humoring her desire. Jean- 
nette herself spoke in this way: 

“Laws ! Miss Pauline, what a fuss you make about nothin’ at 
all. Aint he saved? Aint he sound and safe in prison, where 
them arful bumb-shiles can’t hit him half as well?” 

“But Jeannette, to be thus misunderstood! To be so unjustly 
suspected of crimes, for which the darkest criminal would con- 
sider himself too good.” 

“Ah, bah ! what need you care? Don’t your conscience set you 
right? why then do you trouble yourself about this ungrateful 
wretch, and a Prussian in the bargain? Aint there a thousand 
Frenchmen better and nicer than he?” 

“J never saw them, Jeannette / nor you either, if you will ad- 
mit the truth. You only talk so to console me; yesterday you 
talked very differently. Didn’t you sing the praise of this very 
man from morning until night, Jeannette?” . 

This objection somewhat confused the servant. 

“Well then, Miss Pauline, if you insist upon it: he is a nice 
man and no mistake; but then I see no use to take his words so 
much to heart. He was imposed upon, the poor fellow was, and 
if he got mad in a measure, we cannot blame him much, can we, 
Madam? Just to think of it! First they take him prisoner, and 
parade him through the streets, for the people to hoot at him. 
Then they drag him into court, ands entence him to death. After 
that, they throw him into prison and finally get a dozen soldiers 
to make a target of him! Just think of it, Madam ! Isn’t it ag- 
gravatin’? Isn’t it enough to make a lamb mad like a ravin’ ti- 


180 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


ger? It strikes me you oughtn’t to blame him so much for his 
want of perliteness.” 

“But Jeannette, I was foolish enough to show him my great af- 
fection. I laid my innermost heart bare to him, and he — cruel 
man ! — trampled upon it«” 

“Oh nay ! Miss Pauline, it aint as bad as that now. He likes 
you well enough, I warrant you, only his anger got the best of 
his affection. When you swooned the second time, I saw him 
cast a glance at you, hot enough to set a stone on fire, I warrant 
you.” 

A ray of joy flew over Pauline’s face. 

“Is it true?” she inquired, eagerly; “but I know it is not. You 
merely say that to comfort me.” 

“May the witches pull all my hair out if it isn’t true. I must 
be very much mistaken, if that Prussian don’t love you a little 
better yet, than you love him.” 

Pauline said nothing, but a radiant smile stole over her face a 
second time, and settled there* 

“If I was sure of this — ” she said at last. 

“Sure of it? Why it is the easiest thing for you to find out.” 

“But how?” Pauline inquired eagerly. 

“How? Goodness, you little stupid! Go to the prison and 
ask him.” 

But to this Pauline could not consent. Her pride had been 
wounded too deeply, to tolerate such a humiliation. Still, it might 
listen to a compromise, and a compromise was finally effected. It 
was resolved that Jeannette should go to the prison in the morn- 
ing, and solicit an interview with the captive. In this interview 
she was to explain everything, and, if possible, set matters right 
between her mistress and the prisoner. 

This compromise had a very salutary effect on the young lady. 
Her excitement and sorrow abated; but, in proportion as her 
mind calmned down to a normal state, Nature claimed her dues 
over the exhausted body. The eyes closed, and when Jeannette 
leaned over her mistress to ascertain her condition, the deep and 
tranquil breathing of the girl indicated that she had sunk into a 
deep and invigorating slumber. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


181 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Pauline was not the only person who took a lively interest in 
Robert’s fate. Schultze and the other prisoners had witnessed 
his departure with sadness, and, during the balance of the first 
day, watched for his return with pardonable impatience. But no 
Robert made his appearance; nor could they learn anything con- 
cerning him from the sentinel. The fellow either was ignorant 
of his fate and whereabouts, or feigned ignorance. Night set in 
without bringing a solitary sign of the lost friend and comrade, 
and the cold seemed colder, the darkness darker to the poor fel- 
lows on that account. Nor would their uncertainty terminate on 
the following morning. The sentinel was changed; but the new- 
comer knew no more than his predecessor. Schultze made sev- 
eral attempts to elicit information from the persons who looked 
at them now and then through the bars of the gate ; but the peo- 
ple either failed to comprehend him, or they punished with scorn- 
ful disregard a fellow who had been bold enough to invade la 
belle France. The morning wore away like the night, and Schultze’s 
impatience reached a fever heat and became almost intolerable. 
At last, about two o’clock in the afternoon, when he approached 
the gate for the hundredth time, hoping against hope to elicit 
from the outsiders news concerning his friend, he noticed a dull, 
but good-natured face which seemed familiar to him. The recog- 
nition appeared mutual, for the fellow grinned and nodded, and 
condescended even to a civil “how d’ye do?” 

“Now or never,” thought Schultze, and returned the other’s 
salutation with all the urbanity at his command. 

“You know me, don’t you?” the fellow commenced the conver- 
sation. 

“I think I do,” replied Schultze. “Only I can’t place you just 
now. Where did we meet, my friend?” 

“Oh several places. Once, } r ou know, we met on the road, when 
the Turcos were after our horses.” 

“I didn’t see you then, my friend, did I?” 


182 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


u No. I suppose you didn’t, for I had hid in the bushes. But I 
saw you , you know.” 

“I suppose you did, considering I hadn’t hid. And the second 
time: where was that?” 

“It was at Nancy, you know. You were at our house, you 
know, you and the other chap.” 

Schultze rejoiced at his good fortune which at last seemed wil- 
ling to put him on the right track. 

“Oh, you mean at Miss Delmont’s villa?” he inquired. 

The outsider grinned and nodded. 

“The other chap (as you call him) was captured with us, but 
taken away, yesterday. Do you happen to know what has become 
of him?” 

“I reckon I do,” said the other with a new grin. 

“For Goodness’ sake, tell me then,” cried Schultze eagerly. “I 
die with impatience to learn his fate. Where did they take him 
to?” 

“To the court-house, Sir.” 

“And why?” 

“To try him, I reckon.” 

“For what?” 

“I couldn’t tell you.” 

“What can you tell then. Was he found guilty?” 

A nod again. 

“And sentenced?” 

Another nod. 

“To what? Oh my good fellow, for the sake of heaven, tell 
me to what?” 

The outsider made the pantomime of shooting. 

“To be shot?” cried Schultze, a shudder creeping over his body. 
“When — when is the sentence going to be executed?” 

“To-day at noon.” 

“No, no! it can not be! It must not be! It shall not be! My 
good, my noble Robert butchered in cold blood, and I so near 
and unable to assist him ! Oh God ! art thou determined to make 
me doubt thy being!” 

Schultze in his grief had seized the bars of the gate and now 
shook them with the frenzy of despair. Over the terrible news 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


183 


he had entirely forgotten the informer, who stood as if he were 
treading on hot coal, and tried in vain to catch the eye of the 
sorrowing prisoner. At last, he put his hand through the bars, 
touched Schultze’s arm, and said : 

‘'They were to shoot him; they were , you know, but then, they 
didn’t do it.” 

The reaction on the prisoner was powerful. At first he stood 
like one stupified, gazing at the other with a vacant eye. Then, 
when he began to comprehend the truth, tears started to his eyes, 
and he felt as if he could embrace the whole world. At the 
same time, he was angry at the fellow’s stupidity, and might have 
given him a sound shaking if he had been able to reach him. 
This feeling also lasted but a moment, and left in his heart noth- 
ing but a pure and unalloyed happiness. His excitement abated 
and with it that thickness and fulness in his throat, which had 
deprived him of the power of utterance. 

"They didn’t shoot him, did you say, you — ” 

He meant to add "blockhead;” but checked himself in time*to 
suppress the word. 

The other shook his head. 

"But what did they do with him?” 

“They took him back to prison.” 

“So he has been pardoned.” 

“No Sir; only reprieved. To-morrow they are going to try 
him over again.” 

"Not — ” 

Again Schultze checked himself. This time he meant to say 
“ not if I can help it .” But as that did not concern his informer, 
he kept it to himself. At the same time, he thought proper to 
discontinue the conversation, for the sentinel had cast several 
ugly glances at him and seemed determined to stop the interview. 
So Schultze yielded with a good grace, what otherwise would 
have been wrung from him by compulsion. He nodded to his 
new friend and then returned to his comrades, to whom he com- 
municated the good news with a caution, as he did not want the 
sentinel to know that he had received information of any conse- 
quence. 

When he was through, he said with seeming nonchalance: 


184 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“And now, lads, be watchful and quiet. I for one shall not let 
our comrade perish, without lifting a hand for his rescue, I know, 
I know, what you want to say, and that I can count on you. But 
make no noise now, and look as unconcerned as you can. I shall 
set to thinking, how to effect this matter, and let you know as 
soon as my plan is ripe. You keep chatting in the meantime, to 
make yon fellow think you are in ecstacies over your fare and 
quarters. If you can force yourselves to sing, so much the bet- 
ter.” 

But to sing was out of the question. So the poor fellows en- 
deavored to cheer up at least, and give to their words and faces a 
gayety which was foreign to their hearts. Every now and then a 
loudnoisein the neighboring street attracted their attention, and 
they were considerably astonished to see so many soldiers of all 
descriptions mingle with the mob at the gate. These soldiers ut- 
tered the most fearful menaces against their lives, and it was not 
so much the presence of the guard which saved them; but the 
want of guns in the hands of the revilers. Several stones were 
thrown at them, but without effect, As their sight seemed to in- 
furiate the mob, Schultze advised them to remove the bundles of 
straw to a remote corner, which was less protected against the 
weather, but concealed them entirety from the gaze of the tumul- 
tuous crowd. The days of September are short in that northern 
latitude, and towards five darkness began to sink upon the court. 
Schultze told the others that his plan had been formed, but that 
he would keep it to himself until they had received their supper, 
when there would be no danger of further interruption. 

Until then this frugal meal had always been handed to them 
at five; but this time the clock of a neighboring church struck 
six, without a sign of supper. Schultze addressed the sentinel, 
to learn the reason; but no sentinel was visible. The noise in the 
street, however, increased from minute to minute, until it assumed 
such a magnitude and so ferocious a character, that the prisoners 
did not know whether they could credit their ears. 

“There is something wrong out there,” said one of the men. 

“I think so too,” said another. “I shouldn’t wonder if our 
boys had something to do with it.” 

“Nor I,” remarked Schultze; “but we cannot afford to remain 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


185 


here and await the development of things. It seems we have to 
do without supper, and if they fast us a day that wa} r , we shall 
lack strength to undertake anything at all. Listen therefore to 
what I have to propose to you.” 

They all crowded aronnd him and he proceeded: 

“The gate is too strong for us to break. Moreover, the place 
is too public to think of such a thing; for even if we should suc- 
ceed in forcing our way through, we should be discovered in the 
street and consequently recaptured. Through the gate then we 
cannot make our exit. Fortunately, however, I have discovered 
another outlet. Last night, when 3^011 all slept, the thought of 
poor Miller drove me from my bundle, and caused me to wander 
over this court in a restless state of mind, All at once I saw a 
light shine through a crack in yonder shutter, and being curious 
to know the cause, I climbed the wall and peeped in. I discov- 
ered a kind of arsenal, in which ammunition, clothing, guns and 
so forth were piled up. Several men were walking up and down, 
carrying the lantern the light of which I had discovered. Ten 
minutes later they withdrew, leaving the room in utter darkness. 
Of course I descended; deeming my discovery of very little im- 
portance, I did not waken you to communicate it. In the morn- 
ing I forgot it over my grief at Miller’s disappearance; but no 
sooner had yon fellow delivered his startling news, when the ne- 
cessity of urgent measures lent it too much importance to be neg- 
lected. We have to liberate ourselves and our comrade in the 
bargain, and in this my discoveiy may greatly assist us. We are 
no longer guarded, and the arsenal seems to be equally neglected. 
Indeed, the tumultuous conduct of the French soldiers in the 
streets, makes me think that they are in a state of mutiny, and 
that we shall find no great difficulty in carrying out our object. 
My plan is this: The arsenal contains uniforms of all descriptions. 
After forcing an entry (which I think can be easily accomplished) 
we must each of us select a uniform that fits us, and then pro- 
ceed in the character of French soldiers to Miller’s prison. In 
the general confusion we cannot find it very difficult to set him 
free and leave the town.” 

“That is a capital idea; but we do not understand their lan- 
guage: how can we pass ourselves for Frenchmen?” 


186 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


‘T know enough French to pass for an Alsatian. Besides what 
I lack in correctness I shall make up by swagger. Any other ob- 
jections ?” 

There were none, and so Schultze lost ho time in carrying his 
plan into immediate execution. He proceeded to the window in 
question, followed by his comrades who, with their shoulders, pre- 
pared a platform for him to stand upon. The window was about 
eight feet from the ground and protected by an old wooden shut- 
ter, which yielded to the first attempt to force it open. It gave 
a pretty loud bang, though, as it flew back, and the conspirators 
listened a moment in breathless suspense, to see whether the 
noise had been heard. Everything around them remained silent, 
however; in fact they could have beaten all the shutters to pieces, 
before the noisy crowd in the street would have noticed it. 

The sashes were double ones, opening on hinges, and Schultze 
found it necessary to crush a pane in order to withdraw a bolt 
which held them in place. This accomplished and the sashes 
opened without further difficulty. Schultze jumped in, assisting 
his comrades in following him, until they all stood on the floor 
of the arsenal. The sashes were then reshut, and the shutters 
fastened as before. 

“Now,” said Schultze, “let us reflect a moment. I have a few 
matches in my pocket, and if I am not mistaken, I noticed sev- 
eral lanterns hanging from the ceiling last night. If we can find 
them, well and good. If not, we must hunt some paper or other 
combustible material to light us on our way out. I’ll strike a 
match now : watch and see whether you can discover anything.” 

A moment afterwards, a bluish flame lit up the darkness, and 
when the match was fully ignited, they really discovered the lan- 
terns of which Schultze had spoken. On examination most of 
them were found empty; but at last they discovered one which 
held enough oil to answer the purpose. It was lit and by its 
shine the adventurers continued their explorations. The walls 
of the room were covered with infantry-uniforms, and all the men 
but Schultze found no difficulty in securing their fit. For such 
giants as him, however, the French tailors had evidently made no 
provision. He had to hunt for ten minutes, before he found a 
suit answering the purpose. It was a corporal’s uniform, and 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


187 


much too small for our friend; but necessity knows no law, and 
after considerable tugging and stretching, the suit was made to 
answer. 

This accomplished, the men turned towards the weapons, in 
order to arm themselves for the expedition. Each took a cliasse- 
pot, a short, straight sword and a large revolver. The latter wea- 
pon, of course, did not belong to the regular outfit of the foot- 
soldier, and they therefore concealed it under their garments. 
The next step was to procure ammunition. True, fighting did 
not enter into their calculations, but it would surely do no harm 
to be prepared for emergencies. Searching the hall, they soon 
found cartridges for the cha*ssepots as well as the revolvers, and 
now considered themselves well prepared for the second and more 
perilous part of their enterprise* Schultze seized the lantern and 
led the way to the front of the building, as they would have to 
make their exit in that direction. On their way they passed 
through a kind of office, where implements for writing la}^ pro- 
fusely scattered on a large table. At the sight of them a thought 
struck the mind of the leader. 

“Stop a moment, lads,” he said. “I must try and see whether 
I cannot forge an order of His Grace the Duke of Magenta, for 
the release of our imprisoned friend. I can write French better 
than speak it, and it would be strange indeed, if we couldn’t pass 
off such an order on an ignorant French jailor.” 

Handing the lantern to one of the men, Schultze sat down to 
carry out his design. He thought a moment, and then rapidly 
penned a few lines, taking care to give the letters the appearance 
of haste. The paper was carefully folded and pocketed, and the 
march resumed. As they approached the front-door, the noise 
from the street reached them with redoubled force. The most 
perilous portion of the venture was now at hand, and Schultze 
told his men. 

“We’ll have to force the lock,” he said; “and that can hardly 
be done without a noise. This accomplished, we must blow out 
the lantern and endeavor to reach the street without attracting 
attention. Once there, the darkness and prevailing confusion 
will effectively protect us.” 

“But look here, lieutenant,” interposed one of the men. “I 


188 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


don’t think there is any occasion for forcing the door. Leastwaj^s 
I for my part see neither lock nor bolt to hinder us from going 
out.” 

Schultze held the lantern to the lock and examined it. 

“By Jupiter !” he said, “you are right. This beats a,ll I ever 
saw. These Frenchers must be raving mad to leave their maga- 
zines unprotected in that fashion. Well, so much the better for 
us. Get ready, all of you, to leave the building. I’ll blow out 
the lantern and open the door to let you pass. Go out as noise- 
lessly as you can and await my coming at the foot of the stairs. 
Be careful, though, not to attract the attention of the people in 
the street.” 

After these words he blew out the light and turned the knob of 
the lock. The door yielded readily to his pull, and in five min- 
utes the men had all left the building. As soon as Schultze had 
counted the last one, he went out himself and, after shutting the 
door, joined his comrades. They had posted themselves in the 
deeper shadow of the wall, and gazed wonderingly upon the 
strange spectacle in sight. A tumultuous crowd floated up and 
down the street in an endless wave, some singing and shouting, 
others screaming and uttering imprecations, but nearly all under 
the influence of ardent drink. The battle seemed to have ceased, 
but numerous traces of it betrayed the fierceness of the recent 
struggle. The distant horizon was lit up with a lurid shine, ori- 
ginating, no doubt, from the burning villages around Sedan. Nor 
did these conflagrations seem to be confined to the surroundings 
of Sedan. To judge from the brilliant blaze which now and 
then rose over the neighboring roofs and cast a fier}^ reflection 
on the windows of the houses opposite the arsenal, the town it- 
self had partly fallen a prey to the devouring element. The peo- 
ple, however, seemed to pay no attention to this circumstance, 
for they continued to stroll up and down the street, as if there 
were nothing to interfere with their brutal pastime. At the same 
time they were too much occupied with themselves to pa} r any 
attention to our adventurers. They might have marched from 
one end of the town to the other, without having elicited a single 
remark or received a challenge. But there was one great diffi- 
culty to be overcome: they did not know the where-abouts of 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


189 


Miller’s prison. Schultze had not the heart to inquire of the 
drunken revellers. They were soldiers with but few exceptions, 
and our friend did not know how far his French and his disguise 
would carry him in safety. He was still hesitating as to the 
best course to take, when a dark figure glided along the wall, and 
stopped immediately in front of the arsenal. It heaved a deep 
sigh and shrank back into the deeper shadow of the walls. This 
movement brought it in contact with Schultze, who had compre- 
hended its intention too late to avoid the meeting. The figure 
turned and, on seeing so many men, uttered a low cry and started 
back in dismay. The fear of the stranger gave Schultze courage 
to address him. 

“Fear nothing from us,” he said. “We are sober and not in- 
clined to harm anybody.” 

These assuring words seemed to quiet the other’s fear. He 
stepped nearer and said : 

“I am glad to find one sober being in this dreadful crowd. I 
wish I had never left my house.” 

“Perhaps we can assist you in reaching it.” 

“Oh, Monsieur, I would thank you so much.” 

“Well, we shall be glad to accomodate you; but one service is 
worth another.” 

“And what can I do for you ?” 

“Lead us to the prison of Sedan. We have an order to go 
there, and don’t know the way.’’ 

“Well, that is fortunate. I live only a few doors from the 
jail.” 

“Then lead the way. Our errand is of the greatest importance 
and we have no time to lose.” 

The stranger manifested his willingness and the band put it- 
self in motion. The guide walked by the side of Schultze, and 
the others formed in double file, without awaiting a command 
which might have betrayed them. 

“You have the German accent,” remarked the guide, after a 
while. 

“Yes, we are from Alsatia.” 

“Poor Alsatia! It must suffer dreadfully under the yoke of 
these barbarians?” 


190 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“It groans under their iron rule,” said Schultze, uttering him- 
self a mournful sigh. 

“But they’ll be avenged! France will rise in majestic indig- 
nation, and drive these invaders from her sacred soil!” 

“It looks a good deal like it,” Schultze was on the point of re- 
plying; but checking himself he merely uttered a “sacre” which 
his companion was at liberty to construe at his pleasure. 

They walked through several streets, keeping as close to the 
walls as they could. More than once a drunken soldier addressed 
them, summoning them to join in the revel, and calling them fools 
for continuing to slave for their officers. These interruptions, 
however, remained without consequences, and after the expira- 
tion of about fifteen minutes, the little band reached the mas- 
sive portal of the prison. The guide uttered the most copious 
assurances of his gratitude, while Schultze, determined not to 
be out-done in politeness, maintained that the obligation was en- 
tirely on their part. The connection here ended to mutual satis- 
faction, and when the burgher had disappeared, Schultze ascen- 
ded the stairs in front of the building, and, ringing the bell, de- 
manded admittance. Ten minutes, however, elapsed without 
bringing a response, and Schultze began to fear that the French 
had deserted their prison as they had abandoned their arsenal, 
when a second pull at the bell finally brought a response. The 
key grated in the lock, and when the door opened with a dismal 
creaking on the hinges, Schultze perceived a woman in a wrapper, 
holding a tallow candle and eyeing the visitors with a half curi- 
ous, half indignant glance. 

“Where is the jailor?” inquired Schultze, determined to cut 
short this scrutiny. 

“Dieu le sait! Heaven knows!” was the mournful reply. “He 
revels with the others in the streets. What do you want of him?” 

“I bear a dispatch for him from Marshal McMahon.” 

“Ah indeed!” said the woman more respectfully. “I am sorry 
he isn’t at home.” 

“Yes, but that isn’t sufficient,” said Schultze rather sternly. 
“My warrant calls for the German prisoner, and we must have 
him. Can you read, Madam?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 191 

With these words Schultze held the bogus order in the woman’s 
face. 

“Eh bon, Monsieur, no, no, Sir,” she replied with a shake of 
her head; “but it is all the same. I suppose it is all right, and I 
shall conduct you to the cell. In truth I don’t care if you take 
them all. Everything seems upside down, anyhow, and I should 
not wonder much to see the world fall to pieces. My husband 
has gone on a spree; the rations haven’t been furnished, and the 
prisoners will either have to go or starve.” 

With these words she turned and walked into the building, evi- 
dently expecting the new-comers to accompany her. Schultze 
of course was not slow to understand her, and followed on her 
heels with an excitement difficult to overcome. 

The woman stopped at the end of a vaulted passage, and 
said: 

“Here it is, Sir; please to hold my candle.” 

Schultze complied, and saw how she picked a key from a large 
bundle, and, by means of it, opened a heavy iron door, 

“Entrez! Step in, Sir.” 

“No, no, Madam,” he remonstrated. “Go in first and tell the 
prisoner that he is expected to accompany us.” 

“Well, as you please,” she said with that apathy which had 
marked her conduct from the beginning. Taking the candle and 
stepping into the cell, she approached the inmate who lay on a 
straw tick and slept. 

“Get up, Sir,” she cried, gently shaking his shoulder. “They 
are here to take you away.” 

The captive started up and, for a moment, gazed around with 
bewilderment. Then, recollecting where he was, he jumped to 
his feet and cried: 

“What is this? Is it not night, now ? What do they mean by 
coming wow? Do they even begrudge me a little slumber? Are 
they afraid to kill me in broad day-light?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, Sir. All I know is that they want you.” 

“But I won’t go. If they want 1 6 murder me they may do it 
as well here as elsewhere.” 

The woman shrugged her shoulders. 


192 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“I have nothing to do with it,” she said. “Here are the mes 
sengers : settle it with them.” 

With these words she stepped back, inviting Schultze with a 
gesture to take matters into his own hands. The pseudo-corpo- 
ral was not slow to benefit by this invitation. He approached 
the prisoner in such a way as not only to turn his open back to 
the woman, but also to shade Robert’s face. Then he whispered 
in a hurried voice in German : “Be watchful!” and immediately 
afterwards continued in French: 

“Had you not better reflect before you attempt to resist us? 
Such resistance is entirely useless, for, much as we prefer persua- 
sion, we are prepared to use force. Our orders are peremptory, 
and nothing on your part can hinder us from executing them.” 

He made his speech rather longer than necessary, to give Ro- 
bert time to recover from his surprise. Nor was his precaution 
wholly superfluous ; for so great was his astonishment on hearing 
Schultze’s voice, that his self-control was on the point of leaving 
him. Indeed, so plainly were his emotions depicted on his face, 
that nothing but the caution of Schultze prevented a discovery. 
True, such a discovery would not necessarily have been fatal. 
They could have easily overcome the woman and made her harm- 
less by imprisoning her in the same cell which Robert had occu- 
pied; but the thought of violence was too repugnant to be enter- 
tained without the most urgent necessity. Schultze, therefore, 
rejoiced to see his friend recover his self-possession in time to 
reply in that surly tone of which was so appropriate to the occa- 
sion: 

“Oh! I have no doubt of your readiness to use force against a 
helpless prisoner* That is less perilous than to fight against my 
armed comrades in the field. Lead me where you please, then ; 
I’ll spare you the disgrace of forcing a defenseless captive.” 

Schultze motioned his men to surround Miller, and, after a 
hasty adieu to the woman, the band left the building. They 
marched with military precision, until they reached a dark alley, 
into which they could retire without fear of observation. There 
the overburdened heart of Miller threatened to give way. He 
was on the point of expressing his emotions, when Schultze pres- 
sed his hand and said : 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


193 


“Not now, Robert, not now. We are too much in danger yet, 
to think of wasting time in gossip. Here, take this sword and 
this revolver. Then, don this military cloak and cap, to make 
you look as much like a French officer, as possible. We are a 
patrol you see, under your command, to inspect the ramparts. 

I think, we won’t find much difficulty in discovering a hole, big 
enough for us to slip through.” 

“All right, lads,” said Miller, entering into the views of his 
friends and yielding to the animating influence of his newly 
recovered freedom. “Fall into ranks! double file! shoulder arms! 
march !” 

The command was given in French, Schultze’s example show- 
ing the other’s the motions. The small squad marched as before, 
avoiding, as much as possible, the public thoroughfares, and 
meeting all obstacles as unconcernedly as they could. Miller’s 
perfect knowledge of French was now of great assistance to 
them. More than once they would have been betrayed without 
it. On arriving at the rampart, their situation became especially 
critical. They were hailed by an officer of higher rank. 

“Qui vive?” 

“La Patrouille.” 

“Who commands?” 

“Lieutenant Delmont.” 

Robert knew in the hurry no other name. 

“I thought Delmont had been captured at Wcerth.” 

“Non, Monsieur, I was only disabled by a flesh-wound.” 

“Ah! so much the better, or rather so much the worse; for you 
have only escaped to meet your fate after a few miserable weeks.” 

Robert did not understand him; nor did he care. All he wanted 
was to get rid of the dangerous companion. 

“Any orders?” he inquired, touching his cap. 

“No, I have ceased to give orders,” the other said with a bitter 
laugh. “But what is the use of your patroling? Go, sleep or 
drink, and forget in the arms of Morpheus or Bacchus that to- 
morrow’s sun will rise on a dishonored army.” 

He turned away, and Robert, glad to end the embarrassing in- 
terview, ordered his men to proceed. They found the ramparts 
and walls entirely deserted; but their astonishment at these 
13 


194 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


queer phenomena reached a climax, when they found even the 
gates of the fortress open and nobody there to impede their pro- 
gress. They marched through, hardly knowing whether they 
were asleep or awake. The burning villages directed their steps. 
Before the expiration of twenty minutes, they were accosted by 
the familiar “wer da?” “Gut Freund!” was their reply, and, a 
few minutes later, they had the satisfaction of seing themselves 
surrounded by their enraptured comrades, the jaegers. 

After the first excitement had abated, and a host of questions 
been asked and answered, one of the officers inquired in a joking 
way: 

“But, friends, why in the world did you go to all this trouble? 
Why did you not remain in towm ?” 

“Remain in town?” inquired Robert in amazement. “You 
must think a French prison a paradise, and death by their bul- 
lets an enviable fate. I, for my part, beg leave to differ.” 

“Oh well, of course, you haven’t heard the news. You didn’t 
know — ” 

“Know what ?” interrupted Robert, impatiently. 

“The greatest military event since the days of Xerxes and 
Darius. The fortress of Sedan , with the Emperor Napoleon 
and 180,000 men t has , this evening , surrendered to our army' 1 

Miller and his companions stood aghast. Was it possible? 
The idea was almost too stupendous to be accepted by the doubt- 
ing mind. But it was true, or their comrade would not have sta- 
ted it so definitely. Now Robert understood the remarks of the 
French captain on the ramparts of Sedan. No wonder that he 
had spoken of a dishonored army, and advised his seeming com- 
rade to spend the night in revelry. At what price could oblivion 
of the sad event be bought too dearly? 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Let us now return to the mansion of the Sous Prefect, and to 
the room, where we saw Napoleon III. giving audience. After the 
departure of Pauline and her kind protector, a stream of evil re- 
ports from the battle-field began to flow in without interruption. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


195 


Every messenger brought tidings of a more gloomy character, 
and the emperor, overwhelmed by his destin}% instructed Reille 
to turn off all further callers. The adjutants from the battle 
field alone received audience. 

“Bazailles has been taken and burned by the Bavarians,” is the 
gloomy message of one. 

“The enemy has attacked and taken Daigne,” sounds the re- 
port of another. 

“Floing is in flames. Our troops were incapable of holding 
it against the fierce attacks of the Prussians,” announces a third 
one in accents of despair. 

“The heights north of Sedan have been attacked and carried 
by the foe,” is the last and most portentous message. Until 
then an avenue of escape, at least, had been open. He, and per- 
haps his army, could have made their escape to Belgium : now 
this avenue is blocked up, and an inexorable fate ready to put 
its seal upon his future. There he sits, the man with the illus 
trious name which, as much as his ability, placed him on the 
imperial throne of France. In the United States, in England, 
in Germany his career would have been an impossibility; but in 
France an empty name carried him to the summit of power. As 
he sits there, he shares the misfortune of France; but, while we 
pity the country, we deny our sympathy to the man of the second 
December. Yes, more than this: while we allow France the 
benefit of our good wishes, we cannot help feeling that, in a 
measure, she has brought this judgment upon herself. She was 
always an admirer of the hollow phrase, and fearfully has she 
been punished for this weakness. 

But it was not of France I meant to speak. Let us rather pass 
with this greatest of all adventurers through the trying hours 
which preceded his fall from the imperial throne to the condition 
of the humblest private individual. 

The battle rages with increasing fury around the fortress. 
Every moment the boom of cannon sounds more distinctly in 
his ears, and tlie bursting of German shells proclaim tbe dan- 
gerous proximity of his foes. What shall he do? Can he still 
escape to Belgium, or would it be more politic to surrender his 
person, and appeal to the magnanimity of King William? 


196 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


For a while he is unable to form a resolution; but, all at once r 
he jumps from his chair and seizes a sword. The fire of his 
uncle flashes from his eyes, and he inquires of his adjutant: 

“Where does the conflict rage most fiercely?’ 

“In the suburbs of Balan, Sire.” 

“Then let us hasten thither!” 

The emperor and his adjutant hasten through the tumultuous 
streets. Nobody pays any attention to them, and they continue 
their way through the din and chaos of battle, until a litter, car- 
ried by soldiers, suddenly obstructs their way. Does Napoleon 
see right? Is that really the Duke of Magenta, once the famous- 
hero of many battle-fields — now lying low in mental and physical 
agony; the former engendered by constant defeat in four weeks’ 
battles; the latter created by the bursting of a shell, a piece of 
which inflicted a dangerous wound in his side? 

Napoleon has no sooner recognized the marshal, when he has- 
tens towards him and inquires after the nature of his wound. 

“Rest easy, Sire,” McMahon replies, in a stern voice. “The 
command is in good hands. I have surrendered it to General 
Wimpfen.” 

The soldiers again take up their precious burden; but, while 
they carry it to comparative security, Napoleon seeks Death on 
the most hotly-contested battle-field. He enters Balan w'hich is 
badly pressed by the Bavarians. He draws his sword and joins 
a bold band which vainly struggles to resist the advance of the 
assailants. The conflict rages for hours, and every minute brings 
a more destructive hail-storm of cannon-balls and bomb shells; 
of bullets, canister and grape-shot. While hundreds of deadly 
missiles graze the emperor, he remains unhurt. Death, for whom 
he has provided such an ample repast, refuses to remove him 
from the theatre of his misdeeds. 

The adjutant, meanwhile, trembles for his master’s life. He 
exhorts, he begs, he implores him to retire from the carnage, and 
at last his efforts prevail. 

The two retire from Balan, and, a few minutes afterwards, the 
glacis is in the hands of the Bavarians. 

Napoleon returns to Sedan on the same route which witnessed 
his departure. Strange sights meet his eye at every step. Here 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


197 


he sees thousands of soldiers who have renounced obedience to 
their superiors, threatening and cursing them to their heart’s 
content ; there he beholds an infuriated mob, revelling and pil- 
laging, and converting a once quiet and orderly town into a place 
fit only for the refuse of mankind. Here and there the flames 
break through the walls and roofs, sending their hungry tongues 
far up into the air, as if they were anxious to draw the entire 
town into their pernicious embrace. 

At last Napoleon reaches his quarters. The same room receives 
his wearjr body; but his desperate attempt has been unable to 
avert his fate. Every minute the portentous moment draws nearer 
and his gloomy thoughts appear to anticipate it in dark fore- 
bodings. He examines a map of Europe which lies before him 
on the table. Does he already, with prophetic vision, hunt the 
spot where he is soon to depend on the mercy of his conqueror ? 

All at once General Reille interrupts his thoughts. 

“General Wimpfen,” he announces, and, a minute later, the 
new commander stands before him. 

“Well, General, what do you bring us?” the emperor exclaims, 
rising and stepping towards the visitor. 

“Nothing; or, if you prefer it, everything ,” is the reply. 

“You do not mean to say that everything is lost?” 

“Your Majesty has said it.” 

“Impossible! impossible!” exclaims the emperor. 

“Sire, war has no impossibilities.” 

“But this splendid army! this strong fortress! these provisions! 
this ammunition!” 

“ This splendid army ?” retorts Wimpfen. “When I took com- 
mand, I found nothing but an ungovernable rabble. These pro- 
visions! this t ammunition ? Ask those who were instructed to 
procure them. They ought to be on hand ; but they are not , and 
without them: what do the strongest fortifications amount to? 
Besides, the entire army is ripe for mutiny.” 

“Impossible! impossible!” the emperor repeats. 

This word offends the general who imagines to discover in it 
a declaration of distrust. 

“If Your Majesty means by that, this it will be impossible for 


198 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


me to hold this place, he is correct. I came to inform you of 
this impossibility. Please to accept my resignation of the post 
entrusted to me by the Marshal, and to give it to one more worthy 
of Your Majesty’s confidence.” 

Napoleon has listened with an abstracted air. When Wimp- 
fen stops, he starts and exclaims : 

“What do you desire, General? I did not hear you.” 

“My resignation, Sire.” 

“Your resignation? Never! never!” 

“But I am sure that I am unable to extricate Your Majesty and 
the army from this dilemma.” 

“If you cannot do it, nobody else can.” 

“It is not for me to judge about that” 

“But for me! General, dear General! you will do your best?” 

“Your Majesty may depend upon it,” replied Wimpfen, excus- 
ing Napoleon’s offensive doubts on account of his excitement. 
Then he takes his leave and, a moment afterwards, Napoleon is 
once more alone. 

What fearful thoughts may have haunted the wretched man af- 
ter this interview! Is it not likely that the misdeeds of his 
rule now passed in review before his mental eye? May he not 
have seen the victims of the 2nd December; the victims of Cay- 
enne and of the many wars into which he plunged the French 
nation, either to tickle their vain-glory, or to improve his chan- 
ces for a continued dynasty? All at once he starts, for he 
believes to have heard a noise behind him. With shy glances he 
turns around, and beholds two men who, in the obscurity of the 
back-ground, appear as much like ghosts as real men. 

“Who is there?” Napoleon cries, jumping to his feet and star- 
ing at the apparition. 

“Lieutenant-Colonel Bronsart and his adjutant,” replies Gene- 
ral Reille; “plenipotentiaries on the part of King William of 
Prussia. They desire to see the commander-in-chief.” 

“Show them to General Wimpfen,” is the emperor’s reply, and 
the three leave him. 

Again he is alone; alone with his agonizing thoughts, the spec- 
ters of the past. The furious cannonading has stopped during 
the interview; but the silence is more oppressive than the previ- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


199 


ous uproar, and he feels a kind of relief when, all at once, the 
battle begins to rage with its previous violence. 

“So Wimpfen has declined their overtures,” the emperor says 
to himself. “Affairs cannot be as bad as I apprehended.” 

Thus he hopes against hope; but half-an-hour has hardly elap- 
sed, when Wimpfen sends in a message to the effect that the en- 
emy will listen to nothing but an unconditional surrender, and 
that he sees no earthly outlet from the dilemma. 

So everything is lost, after all! What can he do? He wishes 
to doubt Wimpfen’s statement; but an inward voice convinces 
him of its correctness against his will. 

“I consent to the renewal of negociations,” he writes to the 
general, and the hand that has signed his name sinks powerless 
upon his knee. A deep, melancholy gloom seems to sink upon 
his spirit, and, for half an hour, he sits as immovable as a statue. 
Then, all at once, he raises his head; his eye flashes fire, and his 
lips smile, as if he felt that his old cunning had not entirely left 
him. Again he takes the pen, and this time he writes with a 
firm and steady hand: 

“Having failed to die at the head of my troops , I deposit my 
sword at the feet of Your Majesty .” 

The die is cast. He places himself at the mercy of his con- 
queror with a haste which, half-an-hour ago, he would probably 
have deemed impossible. What has wrought this sudden change? 
What induces Napoleon to surrender his person to King William, 
before Wimpfen has even completed the details of the capitula- 
tion ? Nobody knows, for Napoleon III. is not the man to let 
the world look into the depths of his soul. But, what we do not 
know, we may conjecture. We know that intriguing is the em- 
peror’s second nature, and so we need not wonder, when we see 
that he approaches his conqueror in a role. He appeals to his 
generosity, and probably bases his plans of a future restoration 
upon the very act of his humiliation. This is one supposition. 
Another is that he feels no longer comfortable amongst his men. 
On his tV’alk to Balan and back, he has heard queer language and 
seen strange sights amongst the soldiers. In confirmation of 
his suspicion, Wimpfen has assured him that the worst spirit of 
mutiny is rife amongst the men. No! he is no longer safe in the 


200 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


midst of the nation which, for eighteen long years, bore his yoke 
with a patience surpassing the devotion with which the Hindoo 
suffers the wheels of the Juggernaut to crush his body. What 
shall we more marvel at, tnis unexampled forbearance on the 
part of a nation generally so touchy; or the consummate skill 
with which the despot managed to rule it? It is not his present 
mis-step at which we ought to wonder; but rather at his success 
in ruling the French as long as he actually did. 

The above letter is sealed and dispatched through general 
Reille. Just as the sun approaches the horizon, the messenger 
returns with William’s answer. 

“It grieves me to meet Your Majest}^ in this way,” the king 
replied. “At the same time I request vou to name a plenipoten- 
tiary with whom the capitulation can be arranged. General 
Moltke and Count Bismark are authorized to conduct the nego- 
ciations in my name. 

William” 

Darkness sinks upon the regions, but many eyes are denied 
the sweet balm of slumber. Napoleon is not amongst the sleep- 
ers. After tossing restlessly upon his bed, the prey of hideous 
dreams and visions, he rises before day-light to dress, and then 
paces the floor of his cabinet for more than an hour. At last? 
when he hears the clock on the wall strike five, an uncontrolable 
impatience seizes him; it causes him to ring the bell and to or- 
der a carriage. Soon an open brougham, drawn by two horses, 
appears before the mansion. The emperor enters it and, accom- 
panied by generals Reille, Castlenau, Yaubert and Moskwa, starts 
in the direction of Donchery, at which place he expects to meet 
King William. 

In obedience to their instructions, Bismark and Moltke had 
gone to Donchery, the evening before, in order to open there 
the negociations with the French commissioners. These nego- 
tiations had lasted till one o’clock P. M., when they were inter- 
rupted by Wimpfen’s request of a short period of grace. This 
had been conceded. Bismark then had retired and was still asleep, 
when his adjutant entered his room with the announcement that 
general Reille had arrived and reported his master’s desire to 
see the count. Bismark arose; after dressing with the greatest 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


201 


dispatch he mounted his horse and galloped away to meet his 
distinguished guest. 

The salutation was polite, but distant. Both parties lifted 
their caps and Bismark dismounted. 

“May I ask Your Majesty’s pleasure?” he inquired. 

“I desire to see the king.” 

“I regret that this cannot be done without some delay. The 
king has returned to his head* quarters at Y endresse.” 

“I share your regret, Sir Count, as it was not my intention to 
return to Sedan.” 

“In that case I shall be most happy to cede my lodgings to 
Your Majesty.” 

“I accept your offer,” replied the emperor and both parties 
started for the town. When they were still a few hundred yards 
from the bridge leading across the Meuse, Napoleon noticed a 
little one-story building oil the left-hand side of the road, whose 
isolated situation seemed to please him, for he turned to Bismark 
and said: 

“This house suits our purpose admirably. Could Your Excel- 
lency grant me an interview in its walls?” 

“I am entirely at Your Majesty’s disposal,” replied the count 
and alighted from his horse. Napoleon at once left the carriage 
and the two entered the house to which later generations will 
point with interest; for there an interview took place which his- 
tory will always chronicle amongst its most remarkable events. 

The building hardly deserved the appellation of a house. Hut 
would have been more appropriate. It belonged to a poor man 
who followed the humble vocation of a weaver. The furniture 
was in keeping with the house. The room into which Bismark 
and Napoleon entered contained a pine-table and two reed- bottom 
chairs. It received its light from one little window; but, as the 
apartment itself was small, the two occupants found sufficient 
light for their purpose. 

Their followers all remained outside, and, as neither of the 
two participants has divulged the exact words in which the con- 
versation was clothed, I cannot possibly render it to the reader. 
This we know that the interview never lost the character of a 
business-conference. It hinged upon the conditions of the pre- 


202 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


sent capitulation and the later negociations of peace. While 
Bismark, on the one hand, refused to change Moltke’s terms, Na- 
poleon, on the other, pretended to have no right, as a prisoner, 
to accept any propositions of peace whatever; but that all nego- 
ciations tending that way, must be necessarily directed to the 
regency in Paris. Thus the interview bore no fruits whatever. 
After the expiration of an hour, the two reappeared before the 
door. There the emperor made a last attempt to secure more le- 
nient conditions for his army. 

“Could you not possibly allow it to be marched across the Bel- 
gian frontier, to be disarmed and interned for the duration of the 
war?” he inquired. 

“I regret to be obliged to repeat that I have no power to alter 
Moltke’s terms.” 

“I am sorry that I am not able to secure better terms for the 
poor fellows.” 

“So am I; but war is, at best, a game over which the generals 
allow us Statesmen but little control. I regret deeply that it was 
commenced, and I derive satisfaction from the fact that I was not 
instrumental in bringing it about.” 

Napoleon cast a searching glance at the count and said : 

“You insinuate that we were the beginners; but I assure you 
that it was begun against my own desire, and that I was driven 
into it bj 7 public opinion.” 

At this moment a couple of Prussian oiiicers made their ap- 
pearance, and informed the count that they had visited the castle 
of Bellevue near Frenois, and found it well adapted for Napo- 
leon’s interview with King William. Bismark gave his consent, 
and the whole party at once started towards the castle. A com- 
pany of cuirassiers from William’s body-guard escorted the 
party to the castle, where Napoleon at once retired to his quarters, 
while Bismark attended the conference between General Wimp- 
fen and the German plenipotentiary. When Mo’tke shortly af- 
terwards arrived with the king’s consent to the stipulations of 
the capitulation, the papers were signed by both parties, and, 
soon afterwards, delivered to the king. 

William now no longer objected to meet the emperor ; or rather 
it may be safely said that Bismark and Moltke no longer objected. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


203 


They seem to have feared that Napoleon would meet the old king 
unawares, and plead so powerfully with the generous-hearted 
prince as to secure conditions not warranted by the situation. 
Perhaps William himself was apprehensive of such an occurrence; 
at all events, although the privilege in question was not expressly 
denied the emperor, things were managed in such a way as to ef- 
fectually deprive him of it. 

It was one o’clock, when the king started from Vendresse. He 
was accompanied by the Crown-Prince, and escorted by his 
mounted body-guard. When they reached Bellevue, the clock 
struck two. The castle is surrounded by a beautiful park and 
commands a splendid view of the town of Sedan and the valley 
of the Meuse. When the king approached the building, Napo- 
leon, bare-headed, descended the stone steps and saluted his royal 
conqueror. 

It was a meeting as luomentuous as the one above described. 
The spectators could hardly gaze upon the two princes without 
feeling convinced that thus, and only thus the interview should 
have shaped itself in accordance with the laws of justice. On 
one side they beheld the high and vigorous form of the king, un- 
bent b}' threescore and ten ; on the other they noticed the insig 
nificant figure of the emperor, impaired by chronic diseases. The 
parents of the former had once been grossly insulted by the 
uncle of the latter; yes, King William himself had, only four 
weeks ago, been snubbed by the express order of the man who 
now stood before him, a prisoner of war, humble and penitent 
not from choice, but from compulsion. The opportunity of re- 
venge was now at hand ; but it never entered the mind of the 
generous-hearted king to benefit by it. True, he avenged himself* 
but only by heaping fiery coal upon his adversary’s head. He re- 
ceived him kindly and with the symptoms of deep emotion plainly 
depicted on his face. “The visit,” he wrote to Queen Augusta, 
“lasted a quarter of an hour. We were both deeply moved by 
this meeting. I cannot find words for all my emotions at the 
thought of the change which three short years have brought over 
Napoleon.” 

After this interview King William remounted his horse to ride 
around Sedan and inspect his army as well as his spoils. Napo- 


204 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


leon remained at Bellevue until the next day, when he left the 
place with a retinue becoming the sovereign rather than the pris 
oner. Eighteen carriages, filled with French officers ; eighty 
grooms wdth spare horses, and a squadron of black hussars 
formed the memorable train which escorted the emperor across 
the Belgian frontier. At Libramont he took the railway, using 
an extra train which had been ordered for his special accomoda- 
tion. From there the locomotive took him through Belgium, 
Rhenish Prussia, Hesse-Cassel, until, at last, it stopped at the 
depot of the city^ of Cassel. Here again the railway-car was ex- 
changed for the carriage, which, in turn, deposited the prisoner 
at Wilhelmshoehe, the famous villa near the Hessian capital. At 
this very same castle the prisoner’s uncle, the merry Jerome, 
had, sixty years ago, played his gay role as King of Westphalia. 
It was a beautiful residence which the generosity of King Wil- 
liam had provided for the fallen sovereign: bnt could an aveng- 
ing Nemesis have chosen a more appropriate dwelling-place? At 
Wilhelmshoehe we leave the brooding emperor to return to the 
theatre of war, where new events pass over the stage with the 
same rapidity which forms so prominent a feature of this re- 
markable war. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The news of the surrender at Sedan fell with a crushing force 
upon Paris, and produced an agitation which the empire was un- 
able to resist. When Palicao, on the 4th of September, made 
the official announcement in the legislature, Jules Favre moved 
the deposition of Napoleon and the appointment of a provisional 
committee of defense. The motion was carried and the republic 
• proclaimed from the city-hall amidst the wildest acclamations of 
the multitude. To Trochu the defense of the capital was en- 
trusted; but while moderate and able men like Jules Favre, Jules 
Ferry, Garnier-Pages, numbered amongst the members of the 
new government, it received a farcial, and almost buffoon-like 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


205 


character by the admixture of a Gambetta and a Rochefort. The 
first step was an appeal to the patriotism of the French nation. 
The people were summoned to rally around the standard of the 
republic, in order to drive the invaders from the country. Pro- 
clamation followed proclamation, and, amongst these official 
manifestoes, numerous private addresses made their appearance. 

To prove to the reader that these addresses were frequently of 
the silliest character, we need only point to the famous letter of 
Victor Hugo to the German people, a document which, for bom- 
bast, childishness and want of sense, vainly seeks its equal on 
the wide field of literature. 

It can, however, not be denied that the new government devel- 
oped considerable energy. Its members did everything in their 
power to make new levies, to raise the necessary funds, and to 
check the advance of the German armies. That they failed in 
the latter attempt, must be ascribed to the inadequacy of their 
means rather than their want of exertion. In many instances, 
however, these exertions were misdirected. Wishing to impede 
and retard the progress of the German armies, the committee, or 
their agents, caused public works of great value and beauty to 
be destroyed. Bridges were blasted, tunnels blocked, woods 
burnt, shade-trees hewed down, cottages devastated, villages de- 
serted, and property of every description wantonly destroyed. 
These measures amused rather than annoyed the invaders, and 
in slow but steady marches the victors of Sedan approached Paris. 
The new government did not await their arrival. Leaving Trochu, 
Jules Favre and Gambetta in the threatened city, it removed, on 
the 16th of September, to Tours, accompanied b}^ the represen- 
tatives of all nations, excepting Washburn, the American envoy, 
who remained in Paris, determined to watch the interests of his 
numerous country-men, living in that city. The Empress Eu- 
genie had left the Tuilleries as early as the fourth, and so thor- 
oughly did the enraged and fickle nation destroy every trace of 
the once glorious empire, that, by the middle of September, no 
trace of it met the eye. 

However, it was only a portion of the German forces that 
marched against the capital. 150,000 men were left before Metz, 
while, at the same time, a large contingent of South-German 


206 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


troops were detached to push the siege of Strasburg, and a few 
other fortresses of smaller size und less importance. Reserving 
the description of these movements for a future occasion, we now 
join the columns of the army which approached and finally in- 
vested Paris on the 17th of September. 

To invest a city like Paris is no small undertaking. Protected 
first by a ditch and wall, and secondly by a number of strong 
forts lying outside of this wall, it requires a line of troops sixty 
miles in length to complete the investment. To draw the German 
army out into such a line would have rendered it, not only useless, 
but also liable to be broken by the besieged at any time and 
place. The German generals therefore adopted a different policy. 
They stationed their troops in heavy columns on the north and 
south of Paris, placing only a few corps of observation on the 
east, and employing heavy cavalry divisions on the west- side to 
interrupt all communications with the rest of France. At the 
same time the troops began without delay and with great energy 
the construction of the famous girdle of batteries and rifle-pits, 
by means of which they were able to repulse all the sorties of 
the besieged. 

We may well imagine that the latter did not suffer them to pro- 
ceed without frequent attempts to annoy and harass them. Even 
as early as the 17th French troops attacked the Germans north 
of the forest of Bouvannes, but were driven back with ease. On 
the 18th, Bicetre was the scene of an unimportant conflict; but, 
on the 19th, General Ducrot made a vigorous attack upon the 
German lines on the heights of Sceaux. His forces consisted of 
four divisions which had crossed the Seine at Villeneuve-St.- 
George. On the German side Prussian and Bavarian regiments 
participated in the battle, which was mainly fought for the pos- 
session of the new earth-works erected on the heights. Our old 
friends the jaegers also took part in it, and fought with their 
wonted bravery. The struggle was short, but hotly contested. 
It resulted in the loss of the works and seven cannons for the 
Franeh who retreated in disorder to Paris. 

This battle was followed by an abortive attempt at peace on 
the part of the French Government. On the 19tli of September, 
Jules Favre asked for a safe- guard to the German head-quarters. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


207 


His request being granted, he met Bismark at Ferrieres on the 
19th and 20th to open negociations. He demanded an armistice 
in order to convoke the National Assembly; but when Bismark 
insisted on the surrender of Strasburg, Toul and Verdun as a 
guarantee for the sincerity of the French, the Parisian Govern- 
ment refused to acceed to these demands. I do not pretend to 
reflect on their refusal; but if the reader considers that these 
fortresses actually surrendered within one week from that date, 
he will surely not find the demands of the German Councilor ex 
orbitant. Perhaps the French might really have accepted them, 
if Bismark had not definitely demanded the cession of Alsace 
and Lorraine as the first condition of peace. To accept this the 
French Government was not yet sufficiently humbled. It took an- 
other and severer lesson to convince them that the rendition of 
the old German provinces had become an unavoidable necessity. 
For the present they indignantly refused to listen to such over- 
tures, and Gambetta began to issue those inflammatory appeals 
and proclamations to the French nation whose fiery tone was 
only exceeded by their mendacity. 

While these negociations were pending, the German troops 
were by no means idle. They fortified their position, repaired 
the railroads leading to the German frontier, and built new ones 
to facilitate the communication between the various besieging 
corps. 

The Parisian troops, for a while, remained comparatively inac- 
tive, Now and then a skirmish took place which hardly deserves 
the name of a fight, but was invariably magnified into a great 
victory by the Parisian press. On the 30th of September, how- 
ever, a serious sortie was attempted. Great bodies of infantry 
emerged from the city and attacked the German works; but they 
were repulsed after a two hours struggle, without even the inter- 
ference of the German reserves. The French left two hundred 
prisoners in the hands of the victors, and sustained other losses 
of consequence. 

Yet this reverse did not discourage them. As early as Octo- 
ber the first, they renewed their attacks, continuing them on the 
second, when two divisions deployed from Fort Bicetre and as- 
saulted the village of Noisy le Noi, where the Germans had for- 


208 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


tilled themselves. The latter were too weak to resist them; they 
even saw themselves compelled to abandon a battery which 
however the French were unable to take along* for want of hor- 
ses. Their principal intention seemed to be the destruction of 
the bridge leading across the Seine at that place; but the lively 
fire of the Germahs prevented them from carrying out their de- 
sign, and after a bloody struggle they were compelled to fall 
back behind the forts, having sustained a loss of many dead, 
wounded and prisoners 

But it oversteps the limits of this story to dwell upon all the 
bloody encounters of the long and memorable siege of the French 
capital. Moreover it is time to look once more after our friends, 
the American volunteers, as well as Major Haller and the brave 
jaegers under his command. 

We find them all quartered in the village of Choisy on the 
Seine, south of Paris, forming a link of the iron chain which 
surrounded the cit} r . Choisy had been deserted like all other 
places around Paris, and the jaegers had managed to install 
themselves in the most magnificent lodgings. They lived in fine 
villas and palaces, dined from porcelain of Sevres, and constantly 
unearthed large quantities of wine which had been hurried 
by the inhabitants before their flight, in the vain hope that they 
might thus escape the shar , x % ~ of the invaders. Colonel and 
private lodged alike and dr,* ^ and very frequently they 
dined alike; for more than - ^ s ran anc ^ the gene- 
ral was glad to share the pe 1 an 1 1 rye-bread of the com- 

mon soldier. 

The service of a besieging army is tedious in the extreme. 
The soldiers always hate and fear it. They much prefer the 
active campaign with its forced marches and bloody battles; for, 
if the marches are fatiguing, they bring at least change and 
variety; if the battles are bloody, they also create that wild ex- 
citement which engenders recklessness and disregard of danger. 
But to lie in the same quarters week after week, month after 
month; to dig trenches; to listen to the roar of the enemy’s 
cannons and to the whizz of his bomb-shells without the privi- 
lege of replying ; to stand opposite his pickets and form a tar- 
get for his bullets with the strict order to abstain from retalia- 






*on b ' 

£ 


for a while. * 
skirmi - 1 ‘ ii; 


4 . 




















French Wounded and Prisoners 




THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


209 


tion: these things are calculated to try the soldier’s patience. 
No wonder that, under such circumstances, he is glad, when it 
is his turn to do the most arduous duty ; no wonder, when, 
worried by tediousness, hej plays practical jokes upon his com- 
rades and benefits by every chance which promises to bring a 
change into the dull routine of his life. Under these circum- 
stances the discovery of a new subterranean treasure always 
creates a jubilee. The kegs or bottles are eyed with loving 
glances; they ary carefully carried into quarters and stored away 
to celebrate the news of any new victory promulgated through 
the lines. This subjects the men to almost daily libations, but 
they bear their lot with the resignation of the true soldier. On 
extraordinary occasions they even double their exertions to do 
justice to their comrades’ successes. The announcement of the 
surrender of Strasburg, for example, roused the patriotic spirit 
of our friends to the highest pitch, and induced them to break 
the neck of innumerable bottles of excellent claret. 

The two Americans and Haller occupied rooms in the same 
building. Since the adventure of Sedan the bond of friendship 
which united them seemed to have grown in strength every day. 
Especially Miller and Haller appeared to be drawn towards each 
other with a secret force for which they themselves perhaps 
failed to account; but whose cause the reader will, no doubt, dis- 
cover in a moderate sadness, a melancholy penchant to which 
both had yielded. They did not complain of anything; they 
never made their mood the subject of conversation; but it cer- 
tainly existed, greatly to the annoyance of Schultze who often 
scolded them for what he called their blues and labored inces- 
santly to revive their flagging spirits. 

The month of October brought the sorties above mentioned ; 
but it brought also the most beautiful weather imaginable. The 
sun shone with summer heat upon the charming landscape, 
and matured the most delicious fruit* Luscious grapes ripe- 
ned in the vineyards; apples, pears and plums of great vari- 
ety and excellence in the orchards, without busy hands to gather 
them. True, the German soldiers tried their best to do justice 
to nature’s bounty; but they could only manage a small portion 
14 


210 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

of the abundance, and car-loads of the finest fruit rotted on the 
ground. 

As the month wore away there was a growing desire on the 
part of the besiegers to take the city, or, at least, to receive defin- 
ite information regarding its real condition, and its ability of 
holding out* Haller, who possessed the confidence of Frederic 
William, was always posted on the plans of the commander, and 
often made the condition of affairs the topic of conversation 
with his two friends, when he could do so without breach of con- 
fidence. 

“Moltke is greatly worried about Paris,” he said, one evening, 
as they sat together in his room and emptied a bottle of claret. 

“I see no cause for it,” suggested Schultze, with a shrug of his 
shoulders* “We’ll get it sooner or later, I am sure*” 

“Be not too sure of that,” replied Haller. We must not for- 
get that we besiege the capital of France with hostile France be- 
hind our back.” 

“Hostile but powerless.” 

“Not so powerless as to be harmless.” 

“Are not her armies captured or invested ?” 

“New ones are forming every day,” 

“Pshaw! Raw levies: you see things too black ” 

“I see them as they are; as Moltke sees them. With 150,000 
men tied up at Metz; with 50,000 holding open our line of com- 
munication; with 300,000 lying around Paris, we are really not in 
a position to despise the desperate efforts of the French to raise 
new armies north and south of us. One battle lost, and the 
siege of Paris is a failure.” 

“One battle lost l You forget that we are not in the habit of 
losing battles.” 

“We are not invincible. The greatest bravery may sometimes 
yield to numbers.” 

“But is not General Tann driving the French with greatly in- 
ferior numbers.” 

“He is at present ; but we cannot reinforce him and his adver- 
sary is daily growing in strength. It is the very position of Tann 
at Orleans which creates the apprehension of Moltke. I heard 
rom his own mouth that he considers his position exposed.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


211 


“Well, be ought to know, of course; but we have whipped 
these fellows so constantly that defeat seems almost impossible.” 

The next morning brought the news of Bazaine’s surrender at 
Metz; but it announced also the defeat of General Tann at Or- 
leans, thus verifying the correctness of Moltke’s apprehension. 
It was indeed fortunate for the German cause that Frederic 
Charles and his army had been released from their tedious task 
at Metz in time to repaid the loss of Orleans, and to check the 
-combined movements of the French armies on Paris. But while 
this circumstance defeated the well-laid plan of relieving Paris, 
it did not lessen Moltke’s desire to obtain correct information 
regarding the condition of the city and its ability of sustaining 
a prolonged siege. Of course, he discredited the pompous reports 
brought from Paris by means of balloons, boasting of the excel- 
lent morale of the inhabitants as well as their abundant supplies; 
but, on the other hand, he found it impossible to obtain iuforma- 
tion reliable enough to base on it exact calculations. In vain did he 
examine the prisoners which Trochu invariably left behind after 
his abortive attempts of breaking through the German lines. They 
either gave too gloomy or too sanguine a picture of the city to 
deserve belief. On one occasion several German officers, who 
had been captured, were released, after having been led through 
the French magazines, and shown the ample supplies at Trochu’s 
disposal. But this measure also looked too much like a trick ; 
too much like a desire of creating certain impressions to carry 
much weight. It was an indisputable fact that the true condi- 
tion of the Parisians was enveloped in a veil which the sharpest 
eye could not penetrate sufficiently to warrant true and unerring 
calculations. 

The preceding conversation had first drawn Miller’s attention 
to this fact. Subsequent remarks had served to fix his thoughts 
upon the subject, until, at length, he conceived the idea and 
formed the resolution of going to Paris in disguise in order to 
gain the information so much coveted. His desire of serving his 
country by this dangerous undertaking was, no doubt, seconded 
by a morbid state of mind which the participation of Pauline 
Delmont in the Sedan adventure had brought about. He had 
certainly shown a recklessness since that event which had more 


212 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


than once alarmed his friends and was indicative of an utter in- 
difference of life and all dangers threatening it. Knowing that 
Haller and Schultze would strenuously oppose so hazardous an 
enterprise, Miller abstained from making them confidents of his 
plans, until they were too well matured to be abandoned. His 
first step was, of course, to gain the consent of Moltke, who 
stayed at the head-quarters of the king in Versailles. The dis- 
tance from Choisy to that city is not great. One afternoon Mil- 
ler saddled his horse and, after a short but rapid ride,Jfound him- 
self in the presence of the great strategian. The old general 
shook his head, when he heard the proposition of the young lieu- 
tenant. 

“Your idea is not bad,” he said; “but I fear it cannot be car- 
ried into effect. I praise your zeal, however, and shall not forget 
your readiness to serve yonr country in so perilous an undertak- 
ing” 

“I think you over-estimate the danger,” replied Miller. 

“Over-estimate it?” inquired Moltke, with a smile. “You seem 
to forget the passion of the Parisians for hanging German spies. 
The danger cannot well be over-estimated.” 

“I am willing, yes, even anxious to risk it. You will bestow a 
favor upon me by granting my request.” 

“Are you so tired of life, then, young man?” 

“I do not value it so highly as not to sacrifize it for my coun- 
try.” 

“Well said; but, supposing I were willing to listen to your pro- 
posal: have you already formed a plan?” 

“I have, General.” 

“Well, let me hear. It can do no harm to listen to what you 
have to say.” 

Miller now informed the general how his attention had first 
been drawn to the subject. 

“I had no regular plan until yesterday,” he continued. “We did 
picket-duty along the river, the night before last, and, when I ex- 
amined the different guards, I thought I heard a low noise on the 
water which aroused my suspicion and induced me to challenge 
it. I received no reply; but, determined to satisfy myself as to 
the correctness of my supposition, I lit a torch, which we kept 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


213 


in readiness for emergencies, and, by its light, really discovered 
a skiff with one man in it who tried his best to escape down 
stream, but failed to make much headway on account of the ne- 
cessary secrecy of his motions. I challenged him to surrender; 
but, instead of complying, he doubled his efforts to get away. 
As secrecy was no longer necessaiy, he increased his speed and 
would probably have made his escape, if at last the bullet of a 
sentinel had not laid him low. He fell into the bottom of the 
skiff, and, of course, was beyond harm ; but, as the current would 
take him into Paris, and, as he could possibly be the bearer of 
dispatches, I ordered a few of my men to enter a skiff, and secure 
the vessel with the body. They soon brought him ashore; but, 
although we examined him with the greatest care, we could dis- 
cover nothing but this letter, which he carried in his breast-poc- 
ket. It seems the poor lad came from Southern France, and fell 
a victim to his inordinate desire of entering Paris.” 

“That ought to be a warning to you,” said Moltke, with a smile, 
while he took and opened the letter which Miller handed him. 

“Ah ! but he fell a victim to German vigilance. I shall find 
less difficulty in deceiving the French.” 

“Don’t be too sanguine about that,” warned Moltke. Then, 
holding the note to the window, he read : 

Corbeil, Oct. 20th, 1870* 

To Mr. Etienne Pordu. 

My dear Etienne. 

I write these few lines to introduce to you our common ne- 
phew, Henry Bouvois. He arrived from Marseilles last week. He 
is anxious to serve his country; but he also wants to see Paris 
and his cousin Emity. I think he still loves her, although the 
children parted when quite young. We tried our best to dis- 
suade him; but, when we saw that he was determined to try, we 
gave him all the assistance in our power. We procured him a 
skiff, as it is his intention to go down the Seine, and pass the 
German lines in a dark night. May God preserve him, and may 
His Holy Mother take you all into her safe keeping in this your 
hour of trial. Fearing that you are suffering from want, we fill 
the boat with provisions of all kinds, and hope sincerely that you 
may enjoy them and use them in good health. 

We are glad to hear that the invaders have been defeated near 
Orleans, and that powerful efforts are being made to relieve the 
•city. Be of good cheer, therefore, and hold out a little longer. 


214 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


The day is surely near at hand which will signally defeat our 
enemies. 

Begging you to accept through me the best wishes of my hus- 
band Anatole, and of Charles, Emil, Louise and Marie, our chil- 
dren, I sign myself, most affectionately, 

Your sister, 

Heloise Duval. 

“I see now,” said Moltke, folding and returning the letter. “You 
want to pass for Monsieur Henry Bouvois, and conquer the heart 
of little Emily. The plan is certainly more romantic than feas- 
ible. Do you understand French?” 

“Yes, General.” 

“Your accent would, nevertheless, betray you.” 

‘T think not, Sir. When a boy, I had a French nurse, and, so 
well did I succeed in acquiring the characteristics of the language, 
that the good dame often called me a perfect little Frenchman. 
Since that I have had several opportunities of perfecting my 
French ; yes, I am confident that I can sufficiently imitate the dia- 
lect of Marseilles to pass for a native of that town.” 

Moltke remained silent, but his pensive brow showed plainly 
that he pondered on the proposition. At length he raised his 
head, and said: 

“You have succeeded in infecting me with your spirit of adven- 
ture. With such eminent talents at your command, you may 
carry this enterprise to a happy termination. I must admit that 
such information would be invaluable to me.” 

“Then, why with-hold your consent.” 

“I do not with-hold it ; I only hesitate to give it. I dislike to 
jeopardize a valuable life in such a game of chance.” 

“Then you authorize me to make the trial?” 

“Well, I suppose I have to,” replied Moltke, with a smile. “Of 
course, I expect you to abstain from all unnecessary exposure.” 

“I pledge my word to be as prudent as I can.” 

“Then have your way about it. Can I assist you in anything?’* 

“Not particularly. You might give me a pass through our 
lines.” 

“Such a pass would be your death-warrant on the other side.” 

“Of course, it would; but I can destroy the paper as soon as* 
it has served its purpose.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


215 


Moltke took a pen and wrote a few lines which he handed Mil- 
ler. Then he offered his hand to the young man, and said 
kindly : 

“Now, farewell to you, my friend. I sincerely hope that we 
shall meet again, partly for my sake, but chiefly for yours. You 
had better betray this to nobodj^, for we do not know in what 
way the news might reach Paris, provided they once leaked out 
here.” 

Miller promised to be cautions, and then departed. At first he 
was inclined to obey Moltke’ s order so strictly as to exclude even 
Haller and Schultze from his confidence; but, after mature reflec- 
tion he concluded that it would be better to draw them into the 
secret, as his sudden disappearance, for which nobody could ac- 
count, would be apt to create suspicion and attract attention 
The only thing he feared, was that they would disapprove of his 
intention; therefore his previous consultation with Moltke. His 
supposition proved but too correct. Schultze scolded and Haller 
reproached, until Miller, at last, drew forth his pass-port and 
thereby cut short the entire controversy. 

“ ’Tis no use, you see,” he said, with a melancholy smile. “So, 
instead of scolding, you had better assist me. First and fore- 
most, I want a suit and outfit adapted to a young man of my con- 
dition. I follow fishing as a trade, you see, and, as a fisherman, 
I want things in a fisherman’s fashion. Next, I want a good 
skiff and plenty of provisions, to say nothing about the fish with 
which the vessel must be amply stocked. Last, but not least, I 
need a net and angel; for, though I do not intend following the 
profession in the city, I must have everything calculated to en- 
gender confidence in me and my pretended calling.” 

In this way he warded off his friends’ reproaches. They con- 
tinued to grumble ; but they fared like Moltke, that is, they were 
in a measure infected with the , spirit which had engendered the 
enterprise. At first Schultze insisted upon sharing the perils of 
the trip as Robert’s companion. 

“That will never do,” said Miller, laughing. “I might as well 
attempt to pass an elephant for a weasel, as you for a native of 
the sunny south of France. Leaving alone your Saxon ang, eng 
and ung, you are big enough to cut half-a-dozen children of Mar- 


216 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

seilles out of you. No, no; Paris is not large enough to hide 
such giants.” 

Haller nodded with a smile, and Schultze was compelled to re- 
nounce his fraternal idea. To indemnify himself, however, he 
entered, with all his energy, into the procurement of the neces- 
sary outfit. After securing a suitable skiff, he went with Miller 
to Versailles, and assisted him in selecting a supply of clothes 
adapted to the calling of a fisherman. The net and angel they 
easily procured at Choisy; nor was there any difficulty in ob- 
taining fish from the few inhabitants who had remained in the 
place. The other provisions, such as hams, sugar, tea and coffee 
they bought at Versailles, paying for the same in good, hard tha- 
lers with which Moltke had secretly supplied them. At last, 
when everything was ready, Miller donned his new suit, put on a 
broad-brimmed hat, such as fishermen wear, and, after an affec- 
tionate farewell to Haller, set out for the river, in Schultze’s com- 
pany, as soon as the last rays of twilight had melted into dark- 
ness. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“And now,” said Schultze, when the moment of parting had 
come, “tell me, w r hen we may expect you back ? — provided you 
come back at all.” 

“That depends entirely on my success.” 

“And you have received no instructions in regard to this?” 

“I have not. Moltke had confidence enough in me to leave 
that to my own discretion.” 

“A hint that I oughtn’t to be more assuming than he. Well, 
I suppose I have to content myself with that vague promise. 
Confound this great bulk that prevents me from mingling with 
ordinary men without being stared at by everybody! Good-bye, 
Bob, good-bye, and may God preserve you !” 

He turned to hide his emotion, and went back to his quarters, 
where he was heard to mutter sentences for the next three or 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


217 


four daj^s in a most unintelligible manner. His servant, who was 
best acquainted with his ways, pretended to have understood 
“never back! never come back!” but he , too, was by no means 
sure of it, and, at last, set it down as one of the many whims 
with which, according to his belief, his master was afflicted. 

Robert, in the meantime, pursued his dangerous path with the 
necessary caution. The German lines projected as far as Yitry 
and Maisons, that is, about two English miles from his starting 
point. Yet he observed the greatest caution. He might, on be- 
ing challenged, have given the watch-word; but such an occur- 
rence would soon ha\e spread along the lines like wild-fire, thus 
defeating one of the most indispensable conditions for a successful 
termination of the enterprise : secrecy. Fortunately the night 
was very dark and nothing interrupted his progress, until flashes 
from the cannons of Fort Ivry on his left and Fort Charenton on 
his right, betrayed to him the fact that he was within the French 
lines. This, however, did not induce him to slacken his vigil- 
ance ; for, as Paris was his point of destiny, it would have suited 
him badly to be thus early stopped and examined. 

Fortunately, nothing interrupted his progress. He passed the 
forts which lie nearly a mile from the banks of the river, and, 
fifteen minutes later, reached the spot where the Marne effects its 
junction with the Seine. The increase of water produces a 
swifter current, a circumstance which Miller could distinctly dis- 
cern from the greater rapidity with which his skiff passed the 
prominent points of the shore. Such points (houses, steeples, 
trees, &c.) also guided him in maintaining the center of the 
river. Using his oar as a rudder, he succeeded in keeping at a 
safe distance from the banks, until, all at once, massive walls, 
pushed forth to the very edge of the water, betraying the un- 
welcome fact that he had reached the dangerous circumvallation 
of the city. He did not know, whether the river was obstructed 
here or not. He had, moreover, reasons to expect an encounter 
with some person or other at this place or under the bridges be- 
low; but, while he prepared for such a meeting, he hoped that 
his good fortune would lead him into the city without interfer- 
ence or delay. Nor was he disappointed. The railroad bridge 
was passed like the wall, and nobody noticed or paid any at- 


218 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


tention to, the little craft and its inmate. He continued his way, 
urtil the few spare lanterns on both sides of the river diffused 
sufficient light to bring into view the prominent features of the 
banks. Robert was too familiar with Paris not to know his where- 
abouts; so he took the oars and propelled his boat to his right, 
until he reached a low quay to which a large number of skiffs 
and boats were tied. The quay consisted of an inclined plane, 
which finally changed into a street, on whose remote side ware- 
houses, intermixed with smaller dwellings, were dimly visible. 
Robert stepped from his boat to the nearest lantern, drew out his 
letter, and read: Monsieur Etienne Pordu, No. 123, Rue St. Paul. 

“Rue St. Paul ?” he muttered to himself. “The deuce may 
take it! Who can recollect all the streets of Paris! But stop! 
Rue St. Paul! Wasn’t that the street in which my friend and 
fellow-conspirator Flourens used to live ? If so, my conspiring 
has at least done me one good turn. Not that I would wish to 
trust him under the present circumstances — I fear I cannot trust 
the best of them — but my acquaintance with him has put me on 
the track of an uncle whose habitation is about as hard to find 
as my claims to kin to be established. If my supposition is cor- 
rect, the street must be very near, and I shall have leisure to 
hunt Monsieur Pordu, and return to the boat before the grasping 
people of Paris have annexed my treasures. Let me see what 
time it is.” 

He pulled a watch from his pocket and let the light of the lan- 
tern fall upon its face. It was three o’clock, then, too early under 
ordinary circumstances to rouse the inmates of a house, but, in 
Robert’s estimation, pardonable under the present circumstances. 
His lately acquired uncle, Monsieur Pordu, would hardly object 
to be wakened so early, as this disturbance was the only safe way 
of securing for him the valuable stores in the boat. Robert, 
therefore, at once began his search. At first he found it difficult 
to decipher the streets in the dim lamp-light; but, as he proceeded, 
the recollection of olden times came with full force, and he was 
enabled to make his way without any other assistance than that 
of his memory. At last, after a search of half-an-hour, which 
led him considerably in a circle, he was fortunate enough to dis- 
cover St. Paul Street, and, shortly afterwards, No. 123. It was a 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


219 


house of very modest pretensions and hardly calculated to elate 
our friend with his newly acquired relations. But the character 
of a house is not always indicative of the inmate’s, and Robert 
was rather pleased with the humble appearance of affairs than 
otherwise ; because he considered it easier to maintain his incog- 
nito with ignorant than educated people. But, however this 
might be, it surely was too late now to change tactics and, giv- 
ing the door bell a hearty jerk, Robert awaited the result of the 
measure. He heard the clink of the bell with great distinctness; 
but nobody else seemed to notice it, for ten minutes elapsed 
without bringing a response to the call. 

“Nothing like perseverance!” muttered Robert to himself, and 
repeated the manoeuvre. His second effort was followed by a 
third one; but only when he quickened the different pulls into a 
continued ding-dong, a step on the stairs within betrayed the 
final awakening of the inmates. 

“Mon Dieu! who is that out there?” inquired a pleasant maiden- 
voice. “To make such a fuss in the dead of night! Who is it, 
I say?” 

Robert at once divined that the voice belonged to his new cou- 
sin, Emily. He was rather pleasantly surprised to receive the 
first welcome from her, so he moderated his voice as much as pos- 
sible and said through the key-hole : 

“It is I, your cousin Henry from Marseilles. You are Emily, 
are you not? If so, open the door, but quietly, for it is not ne- 
cessary to trumpet my arrival to the neighbors before to-mor- 
row.” 

The person inside evidently had heard about such a cousin; for 
she uttered a low cry of surprise, and at once began to unfasten 
the door. To judge from the time it took her to accomplish this, 
affairs seemed to be rather perilous in Paris just then. Besides 
turning the key twice, she withdrew several bolts, and then 
opened the door sufficiently wide to let a ray of her tallow candle 
fall upon the figure of the outsider. This examination seemed 
to prove favorable for the applicant; for the door was opened 
more widely, and a pleasant countenance smiled upon the stran- 
ger. 

“So you are Cousin Henry?” she inquired. “Well, I suppose 


220 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


you must be, or you wouldn’t have known my name and resid- 
ence* But come in Henry* I am sure this is rude in me to let 
you stand in the night-air so long ! It wasn’t intentional, tho’; 
for we all have been expecting you so long and wondered why in 
the world }^ou didn’t come. Just now, however, we didn’t look 
for you; for these are dreadful times and I should think the folks 
in Marseilles would be glad enough to stay where they are, in- 
stead of mixing in this fearful turmoil here. Not that you are 
any the less welcome for that ! Indeed, you are rather more so, 
for I presume you’re come to comfort and assist us in this awful 
crisis. Now sit down, cousin, and make } 7 ourself at home, and 
then tell me, how in the world you have managed to elude these 
horrible Prussians, and why you come in the dead of night, and 
how in the world you have managed to find our house. But you 
don’t speak, cousin: what is the reason, pray?” 

“A very good reason, ma cousine ,” replied Robert, with a gay 
laugh* “Two pretty lips have done the speaking all this time so 
pleasantly and so successfully, that it would have been a sheer 
impossibility to put in a word myself.” 

“Ah ! cousin, you are making fun of me ; that isn’t fair,” she 
said with a pout. 

“No, indeed, I am not,” protested Robert. “I was so well 
pleased with your effort, that I felt not the slightest inclination 
to interrupt you. I would at anytime rather hear a pretty maiden 
than speak myself.” 

“Ah! now you flatter , Monsieur Henry, and that is worse than 
mockery. If you continue that way, I’ll have a fine report to 
make to father when he rises in the morning.” 

“So you intend to leave him ignorant of my arrival ?” inquired 
Robert, with such manifest suspense that the girl could not help 
noticing it. 

“Well, does not my humble self suffice Monseigneur that long?” 
she inquired with a piqued air. “I am surprised, cousin, to see 
so many vices develop themselves in you in so short a time. 
First sarcasm, then flatteiy, then want of gallantry: what next, 
Monsieur?” 

“You judge me too severely, Cousin Emily,” he said with a 
laugh, but showing unmistakable signs of pleasure at her grace- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


221 


ful, naive manners. “You will accuse me of flattery again, I fear; 
but I can nevertheless not refrain from telling you that you are 
the nicest, sweetest, prettiest little cousin a man can well demand, 
and that I would not object to spending my whole life on a desert 
island with you. Is that satisfactory?” 

“It will do, Monsieur, But, if you are sincere in your profes- 
sions, why did you open your eyes so wide, when I informed you 
that you wouldn’t meet papa before the morning?” 

“Because it is absolutely necessary, little cousin, that I should 
see him before morning. I have important communications to 
make and the sooner he hears them the better for us all.” 

“But what is it, cousin?” she said with the greatest curiosity 
manifest in her mien. “I love secrets, indeed I do. Oh ! sweet 
cousin Henry, just tell me yours a minute before telling papa!” 

“Indeed I won’t, fair cousin. By telling secrets that way, they 
lose in value. So, if you are anxious to learn mine, you’ll have 
to call all the others, your father, your — ” 

“Oh ! we are all alone now, Henry. Since mother’s death papa 
has retired from business, you know, and we are just by ourselves, 
excepting occasional visitors, such as — ” 

“Well, such as?” 

“Oh! never mind them! They are of no importance now. ’Tis 
father we want, for on his appearance hinges the appearance of 
the secret. Cousin, please to excuse me a moment.” 

She slipped from the room, and Robert could not help sending* 
an admiring glance after her. Such freshness; such beauty; 
such wit, freedom and innocence combined he had not seen for a 
long time. One instance he did recollect; but this recollection fil- 
led him with pain and not with pleasure. The girl of whom he 
thought then, combined more polish with these qualities; but this 
polish had proved treacherous and filled his heart with bitterness 
at the very sight of woman. In the present instance, however, 
his feelings lacked this bitterness, and he looked after his pseudo- 
cousin with interest. For this we can easily account. The peril- 
ous position into which he had plunged himself had animated 
his whole being and given his thoughts and emotions an intensity 
and acuteness foreign to the even tenor of every-day life. Under 
such circumstances man resembles the taper burning in pure oxy- 


222 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

gen. It burns more brilliantly; but is also consumed more 
rapidly. 

In Robert’s feelings of admiration, however, there was an ad- 
mixture of apprehension. He had already been on the point of 
betraying himself. But for the timely interruption of Mademoi- 
selle Emily he would have betrayed the grossest ignorance con- 
cerning the affairs of the family into which he had introduced 
himself as a relative. What a warning to be cautious I Indeed 
he formed the resolution rather to pass for taciturn and simple 
than by loquacity betray his secret. 

These reflections were interrupted by approaching footsteps. 
A moment later the door opened and admitted a small man in 
rather deep negligee, in whose features Robert imagined to dis- 
cover a resemblance to Emily. But, if the features were the 
same, the spirit animating them was not. It expressed medio- 
crity coupled witha good-nature which promised well for Robert’s 
plans. Monsieur Pordu wore a night- gown, which fortunately 
reached to his feet and concealed the absence of garments gener- 
ally considered indispensable. On his head he wore a night-cap 
whose long and pointed top fell down his neck and gave him a 
rather ludicrous appearance. Robert could not suppress a smile, 
and Emily, who followed on her father’s heels, indulged in a noise- 
less laugh. 

“Is it possible! is it possible!” the man in negligee exclaimed, 
running towards Robert and embracing him in the most affec- 
tionate manner. “My good Henry ! my dear nephew! How do 
you do? How are the folks at home?” 

“All well, Uncle Etienne ; thank you for the inquiry.” 

“And so you have come to see us in our time of trouble ! That 
is kind in you, that is kind indeed, my good boy! But how have 
you managed to slip through the German lines? They say they 
keep a sharp look-out, these Prussiens .” 

“So they do, uncle; but they’re not a match for a child of Mar- 
seilles. I got through all right, and that is well; but I brought 
you a letter from Aunt Heloise in Corbeil, and that is better. Fi. 
nally I fetched you a whole lot of provisions, and that is best of 
all, I think.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


223 


“You don’t saj so, Henri: a whole lot of provisions! And 
where are they, these provisions?” 

“In the skiff that brought me] down the Seine, well locked up 
in a box.” 

“But that is dangerous! that is risky!” exclaimed Uncle Etienne 
with undisguised alarm. “Paris was full of thieves at all times; 
but now]it swarms with;them. They’ll carry off your provisions, 
so they will.” 

“No doubt they will, uncle, unless we manage to forestall them. 
We must go down to the river and fetch them up.” 

“So we must, nephew, so we must. Just let me go up stairs 
and make myself a little more presentable for the quay. Emily, 
get my hat and cane ready.” 

“But the letter, father: don’t you want to read it first?” 

“The letter? The deuce take the letter ! How can I read let 
ters, when the provisions, the valuable provisions are at jeo- 
pardy?” 

“But you might give it to me, father. I could read it during 
your absence.” 

“So you might, child, so you might. ’Tisn’t more than right 
that every member of the household should do its share of labor. 
Give her the letter, Henry, give her the letter ; she can study it 
out while we are attending to more important matters.” 

Monsieur Pordu left the room in hot haste, and Robert, obedi- 
ent to his dictates, handed the letter to the girl. She was too 
polite, however, to read it in his presence. Slipping it into her 
bosom, she nodded pleasantly and said : 

“That will drive the time away, while you are absent. You 
won’t be long tho’, will you? I shall make a fire at once and 
have breakfast ready on your return. You must be hungry, are 
you not?” 

“I cannot deny it and shall do justice to your viands, depend 
upon it. It don’t require much of an appetite for that though. 
The very recollection that cousin Emily prepared the meal, will 
suffice to make me pitch in like a Turk.” 

She looked at him with a roguish look and shook her finger 
in a menacing manner. 

“They talk about Parisian galantry,” she said, “but it strikes 


224 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


me that Marseilles cannot be far behind. I shall get real angry 
with you, Monsieur Henri, if you don’t cease your flatteries.” 

“Give me your definition then of flattery. For I would soo- 
ner remain dumb , than excite your displeasure by sl renewal of 
my offense.” 

He closed his lips, as if determined to be as good as his word 
The girl looked at him, as if her very soul had stepped into her 
eyes. Nor can we blame her much. Robert appeared in his 
fisherman’s suit even to greater advantage than in his uniform. 
The white trowsers, the red shirt, the blue jacket, the oil -cloth' 
hat, the top boots: all this formed an ensemble which set off the 
fine form, the easy bearing, the handsome face, the wavy hair to 
the best advantage. He had slightly stained his face and hands; 
but this bronze-color, instead of injuring his appearance, was 
another feature of attraction. It is more than likely that Emily 
had seen as handsome fellows before; but she probably had never 
come in contact with one who combined with his physical attrac- 
tions the charm of so well trained a mind. To be sure, Robert 
had had no opportunity of displaying his erudition before Emily? 
but even without such an exhibition, education and knowledge 
fasten an indelible and unmistakable stamp upon our being. It 
was probably to this subtle and indescribable charm that the 
young Parisienne opened her heart. Without knowing it, she 
was in danger of losing it at first sight. Nor was Robert, on the 
other hand, conscious of the danger of jeopardizing the tran- 
quility of a pure gladsome maiden, where he had only calculated 
to injure the enemy . 

At length, after viewing him in silence for a whole minute, she 
said: 

“Flattery is a grain of truth mixed with a pound of exaggera- 
tion; a compound spread over words, as molasses over paper. 
While the latter serves to catch flies, the former is calculated to 
entrap weak maidens.” 

“Then it cannot be particularly dangerous to you; for weak- 
ness seems not to belong to your foibles.” 

“So I appear rather masculine, eh?” 

“Oh! Cousin Emily, why are you so perverse in mis-interpret- 
ing my words?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 225 

‘‘Because I was. so lucky as to cast a glance into the gentle- 
man’s cards.” 

“How so?” inquired Robert, rather startled. 

“Oh! never mind!” replied Emily. “Here comes father, just in 
time to prevent a duel. Let us agree to an armistice and delay 
the renewal of hostilities to a more favorable opportunity. Well, 
papa, you are in full trim for the adventure, I see.” 

“Yes, child. We are ready to land these wonderful provisions. 
Nephew, shall we set out for the river?” 

“Just as you say. But how are we going to take the box home? 
It is altogether too heavy to be carried.” 

“We might take our wheel-barrow.” 

“Even that would not answer the purpose. Is there no dray- 
man near whose services could be secured ?” 

U A dray-man? Why, yes: there is Antoine across the street, a 
neighbor and good friend in the bargain. I will just go and — ” 

“No, father, not Antoine,” interrupted Emily rather more em- 
phatically than the occasion seemed to warrant. “I wouldn’t 
trouble Antoine.” 

“And why not, Emily?” asked Pordu, wonderingly. 

“Because — because poor Antoine worked very hard all day yes- 
terday.” 

“Well, he has had a good chance of resting during the night. 
So, if that is all — ” 

“But it isn’t, father ! His wagon — his horse — the harness — oh 
yes! now I think of it: his harness is at the saddler’s. I saw him 
take it there last night.” 

“And I saw him take it back again. Come, come, Emily, don’t 
bandy words for nothing. Light your fire; prepare the breakfast; 
set the table: these are the occupations of a dutiful daughter. 
Henry and I shall meanwhile busy ourselves with graver affairs. 
Come, nephew; let’s be off.” 

Emily made no further attempt to change her father’s purpose; 
but in going out, Robert thought he noticed in her face an ex- 
pression of annoyance and displeasure which induced him to be- 
lieve that her relations to the Antoine in question were not the 
most pleasant. Pie had no time, however, to follow up his thoughts; 
tor Mr. Pordu had already left the house and now crossed the 


226 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


street, summoning his companion to hurry* He stopped at a 
small house nearly opposite his own and knocked. It was now 
half past five and the inmates seemedTo be up, for a few minutes 
later a young man appeared at the door, with light in hand, and 
inquired after their wishes* 

“It is J, Antoine,” said Pordu with the familiarity of the neigh- 
bor and the condescension of the patron. “I come to introduce 
to you my nephew, Henry Bouvois, and then to engage your 
wagon* There is a box at the river which I want brought up be- 
fore the morning.” 

The man called Antoine did not reply at once, but eyed Robert 
with a curious glance. Our friend returned this glance and be- 
held a face which was not very prepossessing. He saw a low fore- 
head over which masses of black hair hung nearly into his eyes. 
The latter were small and deepset, but black and piercing. Shaggy 
brows nearly met over an ill-shaped nose, while the lips were 
thick and sensual. The lower part of the face projected in a way 
to indicate the preponderance of strong animal propensities, and 
the coarse, red beard which covered cheeks and chin was by no 
means calculated to improve the impression. Robert’s study of 
this face was terminated by the fellow’s reply. 

“A box, Monsieur Pordu! Where in the world did that come 
from?” 

u By way of water, Antoine, by way of water. But you haven’t 
told me yet whether I can have your wagon.” 

“By way of water?” continued Antoine without paying any at- 
tention to the inquiry. “How could it come by way of water?” 

“Very easily, my good friend. My nephew smuggled it through 
the Prussian lines. But time presses, Antoine, and I want to 
know whether I can have your assistance.” 

“Through the Prussian lines !” exclaimed Antoine. “You don’t 
*ay so! That is a most incredible story!” 

“It is nevertheless trne, Antoine. But I want to know — n 

“See here, Uncle Etienne/’ Robert now interrupted him. “This 
gentleman seems not inclined to humor you. Supposing we leave 
him to his astonishment and try to do without him?” 

Antoine shot an ugly glance at the speaker, but the suggestion 
seemed to have exercised a salutory effect; for he said at once : 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


227 


“Not humor neighbor Pordu! There you do me a grievous 
wrong. Only 1 was so much surprised that I wanted to know — ” 

“You shall know everything, provided you furnish us at once 
the means of taking the box to my uncle’s house.” 

Robert’s resolute tone had the desired effect. Antoine at once 
lit a lantern and went to the stable, followed by Pordu and Robert 
who assisted him in hitching the horse to a light spring-wagon. 
Robert was surprised to see the animal in such fair condition, and 
said as much to the owner. Antoine smiled. 

“They’re not all so lucky,” he said with a grin. “Most of ’em 
have their hip-bones sticking out considerably. But I am a think- 
ing fellow, you know. I always buy my hay and feed in season.” 

“You are fortunate indeed. So provisions are beginning to 
fail pretty generally in Paris?” 

“I bet you they are. ’Tis the poor, though, that suffer first. 
The rich always manage to get a supply, though it’s not so choice 
as usual, I warrant you. They begin to kill horses now, and I 
have a neighbor who makes it a business with his boys to catch 
fat cats and dogs. He said yesterday he thought of turning his 
attention to rat-catching shortly.” 

“That looks bad,” said Robert. “We must hurry, then, to give 
these Prussians a good whaling, or Paris will have to yield sooner 
or later.” 

“That’s even so. But Monsieur Pordu says you come from 
abroad: perhaps you have good news in store?” 

“Well, of that anon. The horse is hitched, I see, and we may 
as well start for the river, if we want to save my box from falling 
into the wrong hands.” 

Antoine took the hint and begged his visitors to get in. Then 
he followed himself and started at once for the river, where Ro- 
bert assumed the character of a guide, and pointed out the spot 
where his boat lay secured. The quay wa3 completely deserted. 
The Parisians seemed to have lost their nocturnal habits: perhaps 
they considered sleep the best antidote against the evils of the 
hour. The box also was untouched. Ignorance of its existence 
had saved a treasure which, at that period, would have been sought 
more eagerly than gold or precious stones. The three men lifted 
it from the boat and placed it on tho wagon, and, before the clock 


228 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


of the next steeple sounded the seventh hour, it was safely stored 
away in Mr. Pordu’s larder. Antoine was amply rewarded for 
his services; but, instead of withdrawing to his own habitation, 
WiLiich would have been very acceptable to Robert and also, as he 
imagined, to Emily, he remained and threw out strong hints that 
he would not only like to hear Henri Bouvois’ story, but also see 
the treasures of the box. To the latter insinuation Emily ob- 
jected on the plea that breakfast was ready, and would spoil if 
not attended to at once. She took good care not to invite Mon- 
sieur Antoine, who evidently was no favorite of hers; but her 
father repaired this omission b y assuring the young man that 
he would put the whole family under obligations by sharing the 
meal. Antoine required no urging whatever; but, accepting the 
invitation, sat down and divided his attention amongst three 
things. First, he did due homage to Emily’s dishes; secondly ? 
he plied Robert with the most persevering questions, and thirdly, 
he pursued Emily with the most amorous glances imaginable. 
The poor girl appeared to be greatly annoyed by his attention 
which was too marked to be mistaken, but seemed to meet the 
approbation of the father as decidedly as it created the displea- 
sure of the daughter. Robert felt pity on the girl and endeavored 
to neutralise Monsieur Antoine’s heart by stuffing his curiosity. 
He told him the most marvelous yarns which were swallowed by 
the teamster as well as by Mr. Pordu with the greatest satisfac- 
tion, while they called an incredulous smile to the lips of Emily. 
The gii’l did not contradict him, however. On the contrary, she 
seemed to divine his motive, and expressed her gratitude sa 
clearly in look, word and action, that even obtuse Mr. Antoine 
could not help noticing it. However to notice and resent is the 
same thing for men of his calibre. He ceased asking questions ; 
he even stopped eating and watched every word and glance of 
the girl and her new cousin with an eagerness that struck Robert 
as strange, and could not have escaped Emity but for the new ele- 
ment which seemed to have gained a control over her mind 
as potent as it was recent. As it was, she only noticed Ro- 
bert; taking pleasure, perhaps, in benefiting by the opportunity 
of distinguishing a favorite at the expense of a person wdiose ad- 
dresses seemed very distasteful to her. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


229 


The meal passed and Antoine left without another attempt at 
penetrating the secret of the mysterious box. Curiosity had 
successfully battled with love; but jealousy is stronger than love, 
and before it all other feelings had to stand back. Little did 
Robert dream what a powerful and vigilant foe the good-will of 
Emily had secured him in the person of Monsieur Antoine. 
True, he knew that the fellow did not like him; but he had often 
met with persons who had displayed a like antipathy, without al- 
lowing it to assume the form of actual enmity. 

When Antoine retired, Monsieur Pordu insisted on an imme- 
diate examination of the box, a measure which was resolved 
upon, as no one raised an objection. The worthy man was de- 
lighted at the sight of the many luxuries with which the affection 
of an imaginary sister had provided him, and was untiring in her 
praise. He also read the letter which Robert had delivered, and 
shed tears at the announcement that his nephew had slipped 
through the German lines in order to place his strong right 
hand at the disposal of the country. 

“That is noble ! that is grand! that is heroic, Heniy,” he cried. 
“But my fellow-citizens will not fail to appreciate such magnani- 
mity. Come, Henry, take your hat and let us go at once to the 
next mairie, in order to enroll your name.” 

“No, uncle, thank you, not just now. Let me wait a single 
day to get better acquainted with you and Emily. The country 
won’t go to ruin on that account, I hope?” 

“I hope not, Henry, I hope not. I only thonght — ” 

“Whj”, father, it is quite natural for Henry to wish to feel a lit- 
tle at home, before he joins the guards. Just you leave him alone 
and I warrant you, he’ll make his appearance in due season.” 

“That’s so, Emily, that’s so. Still, Harry, I suppose you have 
no objection if I brag a little about my patriotic nephew.” 

“Indeed I do, uncle, decidedly. *If you tell them a single word, 
they’ll bother me from morning until night, and then, of course, 
good-bye to all retirement. Wait till to-morrow and I’ll give you 
carte-blanche to act just as you please.” 

“Agreed, Henry, agreed. But if you refuse to accompany me, 
you must at least excuse my absence for a few hours. My fellow- 
citizens have thought proper to entrust me with an important 


230 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


office in this period of trial, an office which would suffer through 
my absence. So, if you’ll excuse me — ” 

“No excuse is necessary, uncle. ‘Duty before pleasure’ at all 
times, of course.” 

“Hear that, Emily ! ‘Duty before pleasure!’ Just what I al- 
ways tell you. Nephew give her a good lecture on that subject. 
She makes an attempt at rebellion every once in a while, and a 
good talking can do her no harm. Ha! ha! ha! Good-bye, chil- 
dren; good-bye!” 

Out he went and Emily looked after him with a smile. 

“Do you know what office he fills?” she inquired roguishly. 

“No, cousin; what is it?” 

“He belongs to a committee whose duty is to catch Prussian 
spies. Just think of Monsieur mon pere as a spy-catcher ! It is 
too ridiculous to repress a smile!” 

At this she did not only smile but burst into a merry laugh. 
This w^as well for Robert’s incognito, for her sudden announce- 
ment had startled him to such a degree that his mien might have 
betrayed him, if her merriment had not given him time to regain 
his composure. He joined in her laugh; but it was a very forced 
effort, and he was glad when her ceasing it allowed him to dis- 
continue it himself. She changed the subject by asking abruptly : 

“What do you think of Antoine? Is he not a disagreeable 
fellow?” 

“That’s what they call a leading question; requiring a “wo” for 
an answer.” 

“No indeed. I gave my opinion ; but at the same time desire 
your impartial judgment.” 

‘•But I am not impartial.” 

“Why not, cousin?” 

“Do you think I am blind? Didn’t I see the amorous glances 
with which he threatened to devour you?” 

E mily colored. 

“It is no use to catechise you,” she said. “I give it up in des- 
pair.” 

“Nay, nay, fair cousin. There is no occasion for that. I must 
confess that Monsieur Antoine did not impress me very favor- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 231 

ably from the beginning. Your father, however, seems to think 
well of him.” 

“So he does, and more’s the pity. He allows him to pester me 
with his disagreeable visits, and, what is worse, he backs him in 
still greater pretensions.” 

“Is it possible ? Now I understand the furious glances he cast 
at me during breakfast. He eyed me as if he wanted to devour 
me.” 

“Did he? I paid no attention to him. So much the better 
that he cannot harm you.” 

“You think he would if he got a chance?” 

“I know it. I have seen enough of Antoine to be convinced 
that he is an implacable enemy.” 

“Then he would be likely to betray me, would he not?” 

“Betra}^ you? How? to whom? I do not understand you.” 

Robert was slightly embarrassed. 

“Betray is not the proper word, Emily. I mean, would he dis 
close n^y presence here to others?” 

“Most likely, Henry; but what does that matter? You don’t 
expect your presence to remain a secret?” 

“No, no, Emil}-. Onty I don’t like to be in everybody’s mouth. 
Moreover, I want to spend a quiet day or two before showing 
my face to the people.” 

“Oh! now I understand! I can hardly say what he will do. If 
he knew that he could spite you by telling everbody he would 
probably do so.” 

“Well, never mind. Monsieur Antoine is hardly important 
enough to trouble ourselves about him. Let us talk of some- 
thing else.” 

And so they did, spending a very pleasant morning; she listen- 
ing with increasing suspense to every word he uttered; he yield- 
ing also, in a measure, to the influence of her genial nature, but 
being free from that magnetic power, called love, to which she 
had fallen a prey. 




232 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Antoine Breux was a young peasant from the neighborhood of 
Landres, who had moved to Paris in obedience to the summons 
of an elder brother. This brother, Maurice Breux, had, for 
years, followed the same business, and, through economy and 
perseverance, accumulated a competence. Desiring to retire from 
bnsiness, he had written to his brother and offered him such fa- 
vorable terms that Antoine had been unable to resist the tempta- 
tion, and consequently settled in Paris. Maurice owned the 
house in which he lived, and possessed sufficient rentes to live in- 
dependently and even comfortably* The house contained more 
space than he needed, and so he rented a portion, the “belle 
etage,” and thereby considerably swelled his income. 

At present, however, he was sorely tried. His means sufficed 
for ordinary times; but the siege had swelled the price of all 
provisions to an incredible height, and thereby compelled the 
family to economize and deny themselves the first necessaries 
of life. To make matters worse, the rooms of the second story 
were occupied without being rented ; that is, they were occupied 
by a young lady who, though rich, was, just then, unable to 
secure the means of subsistence. She was a friend of the 
family, the landlord’s sister having, for many years, served her as 
chamber-maid; but, although Maurice Breux and his wife were 
delighted at keeping under their roof so desirable a guest, they 
could not disguise from themselves the fact that the presence 
of three consumers (the young lady was attended by two ser- 
vants) was calculated to increase their embarrassment. It was at 
this crisis that Antoine was summoned to assist in storing the 
box with provisions. We know that he left the house of Mr. 
Pordu in ill humor, and, as the distance across the street w as but 
trifling, we may imagine that the mood in which he reached his 
home was hardly an improvement on that in which he had de- 
parted. He threw himself into a chair and stared through the 
window, until a conversation between his brother and sister-in-law 
attracted his attention. They complained about their increasing 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


233 


inability to meet their daily wants, and wondered how this would 
end and to what extremes it would be carried. Antoine will 
hardly have struck the reader as a very good or amiable man; 
but we must give him all the credit he deserves, and so relate that, 
as a redeeming qualit}^, he entertained a high regard for his 
brother. No sooner had he heard the troubles of the worthy 
pair, when he arose and handed them the money he had received 
for his early trip. 

“Thank you, brother, you mean kindly,” said Maurice looking 
up and saluting Antoine with a nod. “I accept this, since I need 
it ; but, kind though the motive, the money is no more to our 
wants than the drop of water on the red-hot plate — it is consumed 
in an instant. What we want is cheaper victuals or a cessation 
of this dreadful war.” 

Just then a new thought struck Antoine’s mind. He had, a 
moment ago, obeyed a good impulse; but, as that sort was scarce 
within him, the next thought turning up was rather likely to spring 
from an evil impulse. He loved his brother; he hated (at that 
moment, at least,) Pordu and his daughter. His brother was 
poor, almost unable to secure the most indispensable necessaries 
— the people across the street were rich ; rich, at least, in provi- 
sions, just then the most desirable kind of opulence. Now, should 
the folks across the way roll in abundance, while the family of 
his brother suffered from want? His narrow mind could no^ 
fathom the justice of such a condition, and he hastened to inform 
his brother that Pordu had just received a box with provisions, 
large enough for him and all the neighbors, if he would only con- 
sent to share his treasures with them, 

“A box with provisions!” Maurice exclaimed. “Brother An- 
toine, you must have dreamed!” 

“Indeed I haven’t. They wakened me early and I helped them 
to get the box to the house. You can see for yourself if you 
don’t believe me.” 

“Indeed, I don’t doubt your word. But where did the box 
come from?” 

Antoine toll all he knew. When he had done, he added : 

“And now I think he ought to share with us. If I went to the 


234 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


market and told the hungry people there, they’d storm the house 
and take everything.” 

“You must not think of that, Antoine; much less speak of it.” 

“Well, then he ought to share. Why should he have more 
than enough and you suffer want.” 

“That is not our business, Antoine. Whatever his conscience 
might urge as his duty, he surely has a right to keep what his 
sister sent him.” 

“But Mr. Perdu is not so hard-hearted as that,” suggested 
Mrs. Breux. “Nobody has asked him yet, and so he could not 
well have given.” 

“That’s true,” said her husband; “nobody has asked him yet.” 

“Then why not ask him?” suggested Antoine. 

“Yes, why not ask him?” echoed Mrs Breux. 

“Ask whom?” inquired a voice from the back-part of the room. 
The others turned and Mrs. Breux exclaimed: 

“Ah! ’tis brother Jean. Come, brother, and give us }^our ad- 
vice in this important matter.” 

The case was explained to him. 

“Well,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I see no diffi- 
culty about this. If I knew Monsieur Pordu as well as brother 
Maurice doos, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask him a small favor.” 

“He wo .n’t consider it a small one, Jean, I warrant you. Be 
sides, I always hate to presume on the ground of friendship.” 

“I have no such scruples, brother Maurice. Indeed, if it is any 
benefit to you, I will go to Mr. Pordu and ask him, stranger 
though I am.” 

“Oh ! I guess not. Indeed, I think we have no right to trouble 
our neighbor at all. ‘Do unto others as you wish them to do 
unto you’ is the golden rule, you know.” 

“That’s well enough in time of peace,” said Mrs. Breux. 

“'Yes, and, as Jean helps to consume, I think it isn’t more than 
fair that he should assist in providing,” suggested Antoine. “He 
fetched three mouths, you know, and it is his duty to aid in fil- 
ling them.” 

Jean colored, but he admitted the justice of^he rude remark 
and again volunteered to appeal to the neighbor’s generosity. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 235 

Maurice was still reluctant, but, when the others all advocated 
the measure, he yielded by withdrawing his objections. 

“If it is to be — well let it be!” he said. “But as to Jean’s go- 
ing, it cannot be thought of. Not that I would object to his 
company, (for that isn’t the case;) but if Etienne is to be asked, 
it comes with a better grace from a friend and neighbor, than 
from a comparative stranger. Come, Jean; get your hat and let’s 
go over.” 

Jean obej^ed and the two walked across the street. Maurice 
knocked and seemed relieved when Emily opened the door. 

“Is 3 T our father in, child?” he inquired in a rather uncertain 
tone and manner. 

“No, Sir, he went out on business. Won’t you come in and 
wait a while? He can’t be long now.” 

“No, no!” replied Maurice eagerly. “It doesn’t matter, Made- 
moiselle. We can call some other time.” 

“I beg leave to differ,” Jean now chimed in. “If the young 
lady will allow us to step in, we may as well do it and await his 
coming.’’ 

“I am sure you’re very welcome,” replied the girl and opened 
the door, “Step in, Messieurs, and be seated. This is my cou- 
sin, Henri Bouvois, Henri, this is Monsieur Breux and — why! 
what is the matter, Sir?” 

These last words were addressed to Jean, who indeed acted 
strangely enough to warrant the question. He stared at Robert 
as if he had seen a ghost, and actually stepped back in dismay 
when the } T oung man advanced to offer his hand. Emily’s ques- 
tion in a measure reassured him. He endeavored to stifle his 
emotion and stammered: 

“Nothing, Mademoiselle, nothing at all. I thought at first — 
that is I meant — indeed I am happy to make the gentleman’s ac- 
quaintance.” 

His queer manner had attracted the attention of both Emily 
and Maurice. Else they might have noticed that the pretended 
cousin was slightly infected with the agitation. When their eyes 
returned to him, he was as calm as before. He bowed politely 
and assured Jean that he reciprocated his sentiments. The com- 
pany then sat down; but the conversation somehow refused to 


236 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


flow smoothly ancl naturally. Robert was the most talkative of 
the four, and treated the others to copious communications con- 
cerning his southern home; but when he turned to Jean and saw 
him sitting with his mouth open, staring at him with the most 
unmitigated astonishment, he stopped in the greatest flow of lan- 
guage, and had to hunt w^ords to resume his description. 

Emily was simply amused. She lacked the key to Jean’s strange 
conduct, and interpreted his queer gestures as the result of rural 
diffidence. Maurice did not so much notice as feel the embar- 
rassment. Jean’s previous assurance had backed his rather feeble 
resolution, and now, when the sudden change in that worthy’s be- 
haviour deprived him of a powerful ally, he felt the desire of a 
retreat revive with double vigor. Drawing his watch and pre- 
tending great surprise at the lateness of the hour, he said: 

“Why, Jean, we must go ! I hadn’t an idea it was that late. 
Emily, we shall trouble you some other time. Good-bye, Mon- 
sieur; good-bye, child. Tell your father that we shall call on him 
at an early hour.” 

With these words he rose and left the room, followed by Jean 
who made no attempt whatever to prolong the visit. He said 
nothing while they crossed the street, and remained even silent 
during the report which Maurice gave to the others concerning 
the result of the visit. After a while when Maurice turned to 
appeal to his companion for a confirmation of his report, Jean 
had vanished. Let us follow him up stairs, where he enters a room 
with nearly the same symptoms of excitement and bewilderment 
which he had betrayed in Pordu’s house. The room contained 
two inmates, young ladies who were engaged in plying the needle 
with commendable zeal. When they saw Jean laboring under 
this strange' excitement, one of them inquired as Emily had 
done: 

“Why, Jean : what is the matter? Have you seen a ghost ?” 

“No, Madam, but something nearly as bad.” 

“That must have been something dreadful indeed!” 

“It was, Madam, and yet it wasn’t either.” 

“You speak in riddles, Jean.” 

“He has lost his wits!” cried the second girl. 

“Well, Jeannette, you wouldn’t have fared much better, I assure 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 237 

you. Indeed } r ou had better look out, or you may lose yours 
from merely hearing me tell.” 

“I’m not so sure of that, Jean,” 

“But I am, Jeannette.” 

“Then let us hear. What did you see, Sir?” 

Jean walked up to the girls, and said in low accents and with 
an air of importance: 

“Listen then. I saw — the Prussian officer that came near being 
shot at Sedan !” 

Jeannette turned out proof against the dangerous denoue- 
ment ; but on her mistress the announcement produced a strange 
effect. The blood rushed into her face and then as suddenly re- 
ceded, leaving a deadly pallor on her cheeks. She clasped her 
hands and half rose from her chair, to fall back upon it in con- 
sequence of a sudden weakness. 

“Jean!” she cried. Then, checking herself, she continued: 

“But this is nonsense! Nonsense in you to report such a fool- 
ish story; nonsense in me to give it credit. How should Le Brun 
have come to Paris?” 

“That I cannot tell. What I know is that I have seen him.” 

“Perhaps you saw somebody with a strong resemblance?” 

‘‘No, no, Mademoiselle; I saw him in person.” 

“And did he acknowledge his identity ?” 

“No, Madam; he pretends to come from Marseilles, and to be a 
nephew of Mr. Pordu.” 

“Who is Pordu?” 

“A person living across the street.” 

“So near?” exclaimed the young lady whose unbelief had been 
shaken by Jean’s assurance. “I shall have no rest until I know 
whether you are right or wrong. But how shall I find out? Does 
this Mr. Pordu follow any trade?” 

“He held a little office under the emperor. Now he is merely 
employed in catching Prussian spies.” 

u And Le Brun should venture in his house? Impossible!” 

“He is not in uniform, of course,” said Jean, scornfully. “He 
is disguised.” 

“As what?” 

“As a fisherman. He calls himself Bouvois and pretends to 


238 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


have slipped through the German lines with a big box of provi- 
sions. A likely story! The Germans are apt to let chaps with 
provisions through their lines !” 

“Oh, Jean! I wish you had not to’d me. I shall be miserable 
as long as this doubt lasts. And when it ends, and I know that 
your supposition is correct, I shall be more miserable than be- 
fore.’ ’ 

“Then I wouldn’t endeavor to find out,” said Jeannette, mis- 
chievously. 

Her mistress made a gesture of impatience. 

“I want no wit now, Jeannette; I want advice.” 

“Oh, advice? Well, let me think. If I were you, I would fol- 
low this up. It looks like an adventure, and I like adventures.” 

“Yes, especially when Turcos are mixed up in them,” retorted 
her mistress mockingly. 

“Oh, that is a different thing. I must confess I was frightened 
then. Still, if I had known the happy termination of that ad- 
venture, I should have liked it too.” 

“But you didn’t, nor do we know how this will terminate. Yon 
aay you would follow it up: that is more easily said than done.” 

“Not at all, Mademoiselle. All you have to do is to go over 
and see for yourself.” 

4 1 go over?” she asked in amazement. 

“Yes, why not? Can't you say you are from Marseilles and 
are anxious to inquire after your friends?” 

“No, no, Jeannette. That would never do. I should betray 
myself the first moment.” 

“Then let me go and reconnoitre.” 

“I wouldn’t believe anybody’s eyes but my own.” 

“Then let me go and request his presence here. My mistress, 
a lady from Marseilles, requests his presence across the street to 
receive news of her friends at home. Yes, that will answer. Jean, 
hand me the bonnet. I shall be back in a moment.” 

She had jumped up meanwhile and was on the point of leaving 
the room, when the voice of her mistress stopped her. 

“Jeannette! what are you doing? How can you commit me so! 
You forget how he repelled my advances in Sedan?” 

“No, Mademoiselle; I recollect it very well, and it is for this 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


239 

very reaso.n that I want him to come here and do penitence. If 
he refuses we shall send Jean to the next vigilance-committee, 
and have him arrested.” 

“Don’t jest that wa}’, Jeannette,” exhorted the lady. • “Are you 
not aware that such a measure would result in certain death?* 

“And does he not deserve death for insulting Mademoiselle? 
To say nothing of his attempt against the city.” 

“So you think he plots against the city?” 

“Of course. For what other purpose can he have come?” 

“To see Mademoiselle,” suggested Jean. 

A ray of joy flew over her face. 

“Do you really think so?” she inquired, eagerly. 

“It is possible.” 

“But very improbable.” 

“Well, the only way to know is to try. If you will lot me go 
you shall know very soon.” 

“But Jeannette — ” her mistress protested. Before, however, 
the protest reached her ears, she had slipped out of the room. 
The other two hastened to the window and saw her cross the 
street. Now she reaches the door; she knocks; she enters: tho 
step is taken, the die has been cast, and with fear and trembling 
the young lady awaits the consequences. 

Let us follow Jeannette; let us even anticipate her arrival and 
visit tho room before she enters. We find friend Robert in a pen- 
sive mood. The meeting with Jean had undoubtedly startled 
him, and he ponders upon the course which he had better pur- 
sue. Did Jean recognize him? His bewilderment leaves little 
doubt of that. Will he, in such a case, betray him ? It is hard 
to say; but the malignant persecution on the part of his master 
makes it more than probable. In such a case rapid flight is the 
only salvation. But is it salvation? Such a flight is the gratui- 
tous proclamation of his presence, and can he really escape the 
pursuit of a million people, whose eyes are sharpened, whose feet 
quickened, whose hands strengthened by hatred and jealousy? 
His face, his form, his clothes will be minutely described, and, 
without a friend to conceal him, it will be next to impossible to 
escape. 

These considerations cause him to hesitate; but they mako him 


240 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


taciturn, and he gives but feeble responses to Emily’s spirited 
remarks. For a while she enjoys her easy r victories; but finally 
his absence of mind attracts her attention. She plies him with 
questions which seriously endanger his incognito. All at once 
they hear a knock at the door which causes Emily to obey the 
summons. Robert feels relieved; but suddenly he recollects that 
this summons may possibly announce the officers of the law who 
come to effect an arrest. This thought works upon his feelings. 
His brows lower; his lips contract; his hand seeks the hidden re- 
volver in his breast-pocket. Rising to his feet he awaits the ar- 
rival of the visitors, firmly resolved to die rather than surrender 
to the mercy of an infuriated crowd. But, instead of the police, 
two girls make their appearance, one of them his hostess, the 
other a woman whose face is familiar, but whom he cannot place 
just then. This sight produces a reaction in Robert; but, as the 
machinery of the mind acts quicker than that of the bod}q a 
shadow on his brow remains sufficiently long to be noticed by 
Emily. 

“What now, Sir Cousin?” she exclaimed, jokingly. “Has all 
your thoughtfulness turned into vinegar during nry absence? 
First serious enough for a judge — now ferocious enough for a 
savage. What causes you to frown that way?” 

“Nothing particular, fair cousin,” he replied, with an attempt 
to enter into her spirit. “If I frowned, it was perchance at the 
frequent interruptions which threaten to deprive me of your com- 
pany,” 

“But supposing they originate with a lady? Henri, Henri ! if 
you knew of what a sweet message this girl is the bearer, you 
would surely smile instead of frowning.” 

“Of that we can easily convince ourselves if she will have the 
kindness to divulge her news.” 

These words were partly lost on Jeannette who waited for a 
favorable opportunity of putting in her say. Yet she guessed 
the nature of his summons, and was not slow to benefit by the 
occasion. So she began: 

“Mr. — I forget no»v what my mistress called you.” 

“I don’t know what she called me ; but my name is Henri 
Bouvois.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


241 


“Exactly, that’s what she did call you. Well, Mr. Henri Bou- 
vois, when my lady heard of your being in the city, she told me 
to call and ask you about her friends. She said: ‘Jeannette,’ says 
she, ‘just you go over to Mr. Le B — ’ ” 

“Bouvois,” corrected Robert. 

“Exactly, Bouvois. ‘Go over to Mr. Bouvois,’ says she, ‘and 
inquire about all my old friends at Sed — ’ ” 

“Marseilles,” corrected Robert. 

“Exactly, Marseilles. She has lots of relatives there, you 
know, and is anxious to hear about them.” 

“But,” replied Robert, hesitatingly, “I may not know her 
friends. Did she tell you the names?” 

“Indeed, and she did not. ‘Jeannette,’ said she, ‘go across the 
street to Monsieur Pordu, and tell Monsieur Le B — Henri Bou- 
vois, I meant to say, — that I shall be happy to see him at my 
lodgings.’ ” 

“At her lodgings !” repeated Robert, with such evident alarm 
that Emily could not help laughing. 

“And why not?” she inquired, gayly. “She surely will not eat 
you. Cousin! cousin! I marvel at your manners! It is high 
time to have them mended according to the latest Parisian style. 
Here is your hat, Sir, and now follow this girl and let me hear a 
good account of you. Attention! right face! march! You see, 
Henri, I have caught the prevailing martial spirit.” 

Robert was annoyed and relieved at the same time; the former, 
because his mind was ill-prepared to respond to her gayety ; the 
latter, because he was thus enabled to hide his embarrassment 
from her searching eyes. Finding resistance both useless and 
dangerous, he obeyed her injunctions and followed the messen 
ger who led him across the street into the very house which he 
had visited in the morning. 

“Up stairs, Monsieur,” said the girl after reaching the hall, and 
he was on the point of obeying her injunctions, when a side door 
opened and showed the face of Antoine, who started back in sur- 
prise at the sight of the visitor. Robert felt a very disagreeable 
sensation ; but as Jeannette evidently expected him to proceed, 
he had no time to ponder on the re-encounter and soon forgot it 
over the more startling developments that followed. After 
16 


242 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ascending a flight of stairs and traversing a short passage, he 
reached a door which Jeannette opened, begging him to enter. 
So suddenly had all this occurred ; so totally had events taken 
the lead forcing him from step to step, that he obeyed as if in a 
dream, and, crossing the threshold, stepped into the room. There 
was only one person in it, a woman. Mechanically Robert’s eyes 
sought her face, but all his apathy vanished, when he encountered 
the glance of her who, more than once, had exercised so strange 
an influence over his destiny. Not that this meeting surprised 
him: the sight of the servants had in a measure prepared him for 
the aspect of the mistress. Still, this encounter roused his dor- 
mant energy as well as passion. He felt ashamed of having thus 
long suffered himself to be led by foreign influences, and resolved 
to shake off the strange infatuation to which he had fallen a prey. 
Straightening up and assuming a stern look, he exclaimed : 

<c Ah ! It is you, Madam I My foreboding then has not deceived 
me.” 

The reader has long before this divined that nobody but Pau- 
line Delmont was the inmate of that room. Handsome as she 
was, never before had she looked so charming as at that moment. 
A burning blush covered her cheeks. Joy, tenderness and diffi- 
dence struggled for the mastery on her beautiful countenance. 
Even the bearing of her body intimated this inward struggle. 
Her hands lajr folded on her bosom; her head was slightly bowed, 
while the advanced position of one foot clearly betrayed the ea- 
gerness with which she had anticipated this meeting. 

Robert was not entirely proof against so much loveliness ; but 
while his eyes revelled in the sight, he seemed angry with him- 
self for yielding to the charm. After uttering the above words, 
he folded his arms over his bosom and seemed to experience a 
malicious joy at her embarrassment. 

“Ah, Monsieur!” she stammered at last. “What must you 
think of me! Thus to take the liberty — ” 

“Oh, Mademoiselle, do not apologise. You surely are indiffer- 
ent to my opinion, and as to liberties : methinks your conduct at 
Nancy and Sedan ought to save you the trouble of making 
excuses.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 243 

Pauline started and looked at him half indignantly, half sup- 
pliantly. 

“The same cruel doubt! The same harsh tone! What must 
I do, Sir, to convince you of my innocence?” 

“Oh, nothing much* Prove that I am blind in spite of seeing; 
that black is white; that hatred is love, and falsehood truth — and 
I shall no longer doubt your innocence.” 

Pauline smiled bitterly. 

“Merciful heavens ! This is hard to bear!” she cried. “But 
it is condign punishment for the unnatural daughter of France 
who forgot her country to set up a foreign idol in the shrine of 
her heart.” 

Robert made a movement. 

“You draw a tempting picture, Madam,” he exclaimed ; “but, 
like the fata morgana, it vanishes in thin air when you approach 
it.” 

“What makes you cling so tenaciously to this illusion?” she 
said, passionately. “You speak of Nancy : did I not kindly re- 
ceive you in my house, and even apologise for a previous of- 
fense.” 

“And did you not also receive the assassin whose bullet sought 
my life in the dead of night ? Did not my friends track his foot- 
prints to the self-same house that gave me shelter?” 

“Perhaps they did; but does that prove me his accomplice?” 

“It has that tendency, Madam. Can you explain it any other 
way?” 

“I can; but the explanation is so horrible that nothing but the 
intense desire of setting myself right in your opinion can induce 
me to speak. The man, Sir , who fired at you , is my cousin .” 

Robert started back, but remained silent. 

“Is it strange that he should turn his steps towards his father’s 
house?” she continued. 

“I see! I see!” gasped Robert. “But you escaped with him : 
why that?” 

“He informed us of the deed without revealing its author. ‘The 
Prussians would soon be there,’ he said, ‘to wreak their vengeance 
on the entire neighborhood.’ So we departed to escape their 

furr.” 


244 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“In his company?” 

“In his company. Had we a choice?” 

“Perhaps not. He took you to Sedan?” 

“No, to Chalons. His father afterwards conducted us to Ba 
zailles.” 

“Then you were no party to his renewed persecutions at 
Sedan?” 

Tears started to her eyes. 

“Still such a question, Robert?” she inquired with prayerful 
accents and folded hands. “Oh God ! Is there no oath power- 
ful enough to shake your cruel suspicion?” 

He relented considerably. 

“Pardon me, Pauline,” he said more softly. “I did not mean 
it. You learned my critical condition rather late, I suppose?” 

“An hour before the time appointed for your execution. May 
a merciful Providence preserve me from spending such another 
hour !” 

He looked at her more tenderly with every passing moment. 

“When I learned the news,” she continued, “I felt like yield- 
ing to despair. But your life was at stake, and that thought 
gave me strength. The emperor was the only man to help, and 
to him I turned n^ hurried steps. Through the intercession of 
a noble stranger I gained Napoleon’s ear. He heard my story 
and my prayer, and with trembling hand I received the paper 
which ordered the delay of your execution. The generous stran- 
ger did not forsake me then. At his side I hastened to your 
prison to find it empty. Supported by his arm I hurried to the 
rampart to gaze at length upon a spectacle which made me reel. 
Excuse me, Sir; the very thought of it suffices to paralyze my 
strength. I have — to take — a seat.” 

She staggered towards a chair; but would have sunk upon the 
floor, if Robert had not sprung forward to receive her trembling 
form into his arms. His anger had entirely disappeared. An- 
other, and even more ardent, feeling had taken Rs place. The 
passion he had years ago conceived for this lovely being, now 
broke the bounds with which suspicion and indignation had so 
long restrained it, and leaped forward with all the intensity of 
the pent-up flame. He pressed her to his bosom and showered 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


245 


kisses upon her lips, her clieeks, eyes and forehead with an im- 
petuosity which she could not have resisted, if she had desired 
to do so. However, she did not seem to be much inclined to re- 
sistance, a circumstance which probably finds its explanation in 
her recent weakness. 

“Don’t, Robert, don’t,” was all she said. But when he re- 
fused to heed her words, she surrendered herself to her fate with 
a praise-worthy resignation. At last, when the first storm of his 
excitement had spent itself, he conducted her to a sofa and 
gently lowered her upon the cushioned seat. Then, sitting down 
beside her, he took her hands and gazed long and wistfully into 
her eyes. For five minutes both remained silent; then he broke 
the spell by saying : 

“And is this real ? Is it not a dream from which I am destined 
to awaken to the old cruel reality? Oh, Pauline, if you knew 
how much these tormenting doubts have embittered my exist- 
ence !” 

“Then why adhere to them with such tenacity ?” she inquired, 
archly, the natural buoyancy of the Frenchwoman breaking 
through her late trouble like the sunbeam through the storm- 
cloud. “I was sorely grieved while you doubted, Robert; but 
now, since you believe, I feel greatly tempted to use a woman’s 
prerogative and pout and scold you for your want of faith. How 
could you have the heart to think me guilty of such monstrous 
cruelty ?” 

Her tone was serious enough; but he attempted to escape the 
question by joking it away. 

“If you avail yourself of woman’s rights,” he said, “I shall 
have recourse to manly strength, and quash your proceedings as 
soon as they begin to be inconvenient, which is the case just 
now.” 

After this he closed her mouth with a kiss and repeated the 
measure as often as she made the attempt of speaking. At last 
she cried for mercy, and then he stopped his pleasant pastime to 
renew it aoninute afterwards with another pretence. Thus they 
played an\l laughed like the most veritable children, a circum- 
stance for which the reader will not make me responsible, but 
the mischievous little god with the bow and arrow who is said to 


246 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


commit such rogueries every day, at the expense of countless 
swains und maidens, whose reason is reputed to suffer serious 
detriment under such injurious treatment. 

The minds of our young couple must certainly be affected; 
else how could they thus continue to coo and sport at the very 
brink of a precipice which may swallow them both before they 
know it? At length, however, reason makes an effort to resume 
its throne. Pauline is the first to awaken to reality. Starting 
up in the midst of his caresses, she cried : 

“But, Robert, I forgot, You never told me how it happens 
that I see you thus in Paris?” 

Robert was slightly confused. 

“Why ask that question?” he said, evasively. “Is it not enough 
that we found each other?” 

“It is, my Robert; but I cannot conceal from myself the dan- 
ger of losing you again beyond recovery. Confess, there is a 
daring scheme connected with your visit in the city?” 

“And, were it so? To you I am nothing but the passionate 
lover who would rather perish on the spot than lose again this 
blissful consciousness of your affection.” 

“And to my country you are the dangerous foe who spies her 
weakest spot and uses the fatal information to her destruction.” 

A cloud passed over his brow. 

“And if it were so — would you betray me?” 

She embraced him with a passionate vehemence. 

“Robert slay me, but never use that word again. Have I not 
already suffered enough through your suspicion?” 

“But look at Judith of old. She slew her lover and covered 
herself with immortal glory.” 

“Alas, Robert, why do you speak thus? Was it necessary to 
appeal to my slumbering conscience? Was it necessary to re- 
mind me that I commit high-treason with every kiss I give and 
take?” 

“And if I did remind you; if I did awaken your slumbering 
conscience: could you be tempted to sacrifice me to your pat- 
riotism?” 

“No, Robert, I could not. I may be wrong in saying it; but I 
have no country save your heart, no home save your bosom. All 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 247 

recollections have been drowned in my love, and what I think, 
and breathe and feel, is Robert, Robert, Robert!” 

The young man pressed her passionately to his heart. A few 
moments she rested happily; but the fear of danger at last chased 
her up again. 

“Oh, Robert!” she cried. “Let your errand be what it will: 
you must not tarry in Paris. Your sojourn here is death. The 
walls around you bear tales and the air communicates your se- 
cret thoughts. Hundreds of agents watch for German spies, and 
if they capture you no power on earth can save you. There 
will be no trial, ro respite: a furious mob will pounce upon you 
and tear you into a thousand shreds! Oh, Robert! dearest Ro- 
bert! listen to my first, my fervent prayer : flee from this city! 
Flee, before the fatal secret is betrayed. I have once suffered the 
agonies of death on your account: a second shock like that would 
upset my reason, and deliver me helplessly into the grasp of mad- 
ness!” 

She stared so wildly at these words that Robert became alarmed 
and tried to sooth her. 

“I could not go in day-light, darling, could I?” 

“If not in day-light, at least in the coming night. Robert, 
promise me that you will depart as soon as darkness has set in to 
hide your movements.” 

“And are } T ou then so anxious to part from me?” 

“Oh, Robert, that question is more than cruel. To stay is 
death; to flee is safety: could you deem me weak enough to jeo- 
pardize your safety for the gratification of a childish whim? I 
make a small sacrifice to secure a great boon: Robert will you 
promise me to depart the coming night?” 

Who could resist such pleading? Surely not our friend. Duty, 
glory, fame: everything yielded before the passionate appeal of 
the beloved one, and, embracing her anew, he cried: 

“I will, darling, I will. Your request is powerfully backed by 
the love of life. As long as I believed you hostile and deceitful, 
I plunged recklessty into the maddest schemes. Now, with the 
consciousness of your affection, I shall guard my life as the choi- 
cest treasure. To show you that I am in earnest, I shall leave 


248 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


you at once; for the folks across the street might marvel at this 
protracted stay.” 

“Leave me at once?” she inquired, anxiously, clinging to him 
with a nervous grasp. “Is — that — necessary, Robert?” 

He smiled. 

“Practice is harder than theory,” he said. “Just a minute ago 
you spoke of making sacrifices, and now — ” 

She laid her hand upon his mouth. 

“I was a child,” she said; “bnt childish }^ou shall find me no 
longer. Farewell at once, if it need be; and may a kind Provi- 
dence lead you safely from the city and preserve you through 
this whole cruel war, I must, I shall see you again; for God can- 
not possibly have shown me the promised land to shut its gate 
before me at the moment of fulfilment. Farewell, Robert; fare- 
well, my own, my only one!” 

She cast her arms around his neck and nestled her head against 
his bosom as if she meant never to relinquish him again. Robert 
too was deeply moved; but in this crisis he showed himself the 
strongest. 

“Before I leave you, Pauline,” he said, “we must lay plans to 
meet again. Who are the people living in this house, and why 
do you stay with them in preference to your relatives?” 

“CarTt you guess?” she inquired, raising her head. “ Tour en- 
emy is my enemy, and it is to save myself from his hateful im- 
portunities that I left my friends to abide with strangers.” 

Robert’s brows darkened. 

“The scoundrel!” he muttered. “He is contracting a fearful 
debt; but the day of reckoning will come, depend upon it. And 
these people are kind to you?” 

“Only too kind. We are three of us, and I fear we begin to be 
a burden to them. Provisions are beginning to be scarce and 
expensive at an alarming rate.” 

“Then, why remain in the cit} r and undergo the hardships of 
this siege?” 

“You mock me, Robert. How could I escape them? The Ger- 
mans will not let me pass the lines.” 

“They will, if 1 am with you.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 249 

“ You ? ” she exclaimed, starting up. “What do you mean, Ro- 
bert? Pray, do not keep me in suspense.” 

“Can you not guess it, Pauline? Wliat hinders you from join- 
ing in my flight to-night?” 

A ray of delight lil up her countenance ; but it went as quickly 
as it had come. 

“That will never answer,” she said, despondingly, with a shake 
of her head. “My presence would embarrass your movements 
and jeopardize your safety.” 

“Indeed it wouldn’t. I have a little boat on the Seine: don’t 
you think it would carry two as easily as one ?” 

“My sex would betray you*” 

“It wouldn’t if you disguise yourself in male attire. I warrant 
you, that you would make the prettiest fisherman on all the riv- 
ers of France.” 

She blushed with pleasure at this praise; but continued to shake 
her head. At last, when all his arguments were exhausted, he 
formed a desperate resolution. 

“Very well,” he said. “If } t ou are determined to remain, I 
shall remain as well.” 

“And your promise ?” she said, greatly alarmed. 

“Was given with a view of saving myself for you: but what 
does my salvation amount to, if you refuse to preserve yourself 
for me?” 

' “I shall be as safe here as elsewhere.” 

“You are mistaken. Our shells will, before long, make Paris a 
dangerous abode. Moreover, Famine will soon show her hideous 
face and raise the beastly passions of the people. Imagine if 
Dupre should discover your retreat under such circumstances.” 

This last consideration carried the point. 

“I’ll go with you,” she said, rising hastily and looking around 
with a nervous glance, as if she expected to see the feared coun- 
tenance even then. “Dispose of me as you please.” 

“Ah ! that is my own Pauline!” he said, caressingly. “Can you 
procure a fisherman’s suit before to-night?” 

“I think I can. Garments are cheap enough, they sa}^, and 
Jean surely knows where to get them.” 


250 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Caution him to be prudent, though. His intellect does not 
seem the brightest.” 

“Pie makes up in fidelity what he lacks in brightness. But 
give me my further instructions.” 

“Well, don the suit and hold yourself in readiness to meet me 
in the street at ten o’clock.” 

“As late as that?” she said with a shudder. U I tremble at the 
thought of knowing you so long in Paris.” 

“The streets will be too lively at an earlier hour.” 

“Oh no! the streets are desolate enough at dusk.” 

“Well, make it eight then. Be punctual, tho’; for a delay will 
imperil all.” 

“I shall do my best, Robert. And we shall take the boat then?” 

“That is my purpose.” 

“But to row up stream will cause both noise and delay.” 

“I do not mean to row up stream,” he said, playfully. “Has 
not the Seine a down as well as up course?” 

“But going down stream we would have to pass the entire city.” 

“So we would.” 

“That is bold; that is desperate.” 

“Boldness is often an essential element for the success of a 
plan. Leave that to me, darling. I shall be cautious as well as 
bold: for, like Caesar, I shall to-night carry with me my fortune. 
Now farewell, Pauline! I part with a lighter heart; for now I 
know that our separation will be only for a few hours. Bear up 
under the trial before you ! Remember that Fortune favors the 
bold!” 

A last kiss, a last pressure of the hand, and the door separ- 
ated the lovers. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


251 


CHAPTER XXII. 

In the passage Robert found Jeannette who seemed to have 
kept watch, and now gave him a knowing look. In the hall be- 
low he again met Monsieur Antoine, looking a little more bewil- 
dered and vexed at failing to comprehend the cause and nature 
of so long and strange a visit. Robert felt disgusted at the clum- 
siness of the fellow, and passed him with a glance in which his 
feelings were pretty plainly delineated. Antoine did not resent 
this glance; but he looked after the retiring visitor with an ex- 
pression so ugly that it would certainly have alarmed Robert if 
he had noticed it. Our friend had indeed engaged the dray-man’s 
thoughts during the entire visit. What business had he up stairs ? 
that was the question which Antoine asked himself incessantly. 
Had he come to court Miss Delmont ? then he had surely no busi- 
ness to pay his addresses to Emily Pordu at the same time. Now 
Antoine was interested in Emily, and he was indifferent to Pau- 
line. When he showed so much eagerness in discovering a love- 
connection between our friend and Miss Delmont, he obeyed not 
so much the motives of jealousy as of egotism. “Emily has 
taken a fancy to this fellow,” he argued to himself. “Now if I 
could convince her that he merely sports with her and offers to 
another the homage which she thinks herself entitled to, she 
must necessarily discard him and look with favor upon a worth- 
ier party. Antoine, sharpen your wits ! Keep a good look out, 
and you may realize your wishes before you know it.” 

Acting on this principle, Antoine not only watched the hall 
during the entire interview; but even stealthily ascended the 
stairs to enlist his ear as an associate in his undertaking. In this 
he was foiled by the vigilance of Jeannette, who had no sooner 
heard the steps creak under his feet, when she went to the ban- 
nister and challenged him. 

“Why! is that you, Antoine?” she said with a smile on her lips. 
“It is very kind in you to think of paying us a visit ; but, as my 
mistress has company just now, you will oblige us by post-poning 
your call a little while.” 


252 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“Exactly, Miss Jeannette,” said Antoine, coloring with con- 
fusion and vexation. “Many thanks for the hint. But see here, 
Mademoiselle, could you not tell me who is with your mistress?” 

“To be sure, Monsieur Antoine. It is a young fisherman by 
the name of Bouvois.” 

“And pray, what may be his business with the lady?” 

“That is no secret, Antoine, and I may as well inform you. 
My mistress and this Bouvois hail from the same town, and so 
it is but natural that we should wish to hear from all our friends.” 

“Ah! that accounts for the length of the visit.” 

“Exactly, Monsieur Breux. Is there anything else with which 
I could serve you?” 

“No, thank you, Mademoiselle. Is Jean at home?” 

“He is not, Sir.” 

“Then farewell, Jeannette. I shall take pleasure in calling an- 
other time.” 

With this he retraced his steps. Jeannette indulged in a noise- 
less laugh. 

“The fool!” she murmured. “To think he could outwit me ! 
He will pump Jean now; but he is welcome to all he can get out 
of him!” 

Jeannette based her calculations on Jean’s virtues; Antoine his 
on Jean’s vices — the sequel will show who was correct. 

So Jean had vices? Antoine thought he had. A few days 
ago he and Jean had been at a social gathering in the neighbor- 
hood, where the death of all Germans had been drunk in plenty 
of good liquor. Jean had not shown himself equal to the occa- 
sion. After imbibing a certain quantity, he had become as lo- 
quacious as a magpie and poured his confidential communications 
into the ears of those who were willing to listen. Antoine could 
ihave pumped him then if he had desired to do so; but, voting 
him a bore, he had shunned him as much as possible. Now, how- 
ever, circumstances had changed. The former annoyance had at 
present become a great desideratum, and Antoine set his wits at 
work to accomplish his purpose. We know already that the 
dray-man was not especially noted for brilliancy of intellect ; but 
like most obtuse persons he possessed the low cunning which 
Providence seems to have vouchsafed to animals of an inferior 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


253 


grade as a weapon of defense. Antoine perverted it to aggres- 
sive purposes. He retired to his chamber in a back-building 
and began to study. Jean was fond of liquor, and to provide for 
it, therefore, became the first requisite. But other considerations 
came into play as well. Antoine needed a place and occasion for 
the intended banquet. The place must be sufficiently retired to 
guard against the officious interference of Mademoiselle Jean- 
nette, and the occasion natural enough to avoid the suspicion of 
Jean himself. 

Antoine was a man of order. He took the question up in due 
succession. First the liquor. A smile of satisfaction stole over 
his face. He walked up to a large, wooden chest which stood in 
a corner of the room and opened it by means of a key which he 
drew from his pocket. After lifting the heavy cover, he drew 
forth a large, stone jug which he placed upon the table and 
viewed with an affectionate eye. He drew a chair to the table, 
sat down upon it and nodded to the jug as if it had been an old 
and dear acquaintance and capable of understanding him. Then 
he placed both elbows upon the table, rested his chin upon his 
hands and began to ponder, The jug seemed to inspire him, for 
before long he raised his head, brought down his fist vigorously 
upon the table and exclaimed : 

“That will do !” 

He rose from the chair and replaced the jug in the chest. Then 
he left the room, crossed a small court which separated the back- 
building from the front one, and with noiseless step walked to 
the kitchen-door. This he opened and peeped in. When he saw 
the room empty, he stepped in and, with the same noiselessnes, 
opened a cupboard in which his sister-in-law kept her plates and 
dishes. He took a couple of tumblers, put them in his pocket, 
re-shut the cupboard and left the kitchen as stealthily as he had 
entered it. In the hall Antoine nodded again. No person had 
seen him and another step towards the execution of his purpose 
had been successfully achieved. He carried his booty into his 
room, deposited it in the chest with the jug, and nodded a third 
time. Nodding seemed to have become a habit with the conspi- 
rator. He had nothing to show for the last nod; on the contrary 
he felt the difficulty of the remaining task and again set to work 


254 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


without further delay. Pulling out his watch he discovered that 
noon was close at hand. It was too late now to operate before 
dinner. Moreover, man is more inclined to social intercourse 
after than before his meals. They make him physically and men- 
tally indolent, and what could suit Jean better than to recline in 
an easy-chair and pass the time with that light gossip which is 
so convenient a precursor and mediator to an afternoon nap? 
Antoine was a philosopher in his way. He knew human nature. 
He could abide his time and abide it he did. Dinner soon gath- 
ered the members of the family around the table. Antoine’s 
money had procured a sufficiency of plain but wholesome food, 
and a feeling of more than usual content seemed to rest on the 
company. Pauline was unusually silent, but the recent inter- 
view with her lover had left a happy impress on her countenance. 
The meal was rather short. Ilalf-an-hour after its commence- 
ment the different parties had again retired to their rooms. An- 
toine lay in wait in his like the spider in its nest. He knew Jean’s 
habits and waited patiently for the further development of events. 
Jean had an unusual amount of idle time on his hands, and it 
was no uncommon thing for him to drop into Antoine’s room af- 
ter dinner and chat or doze away the time. Perhaps he would do 
so to-day; if not, there would still be plenty of time for Antoine 
to interfere actively in the shaping of events. 

The theory of an actual devil has exploded before the knowl- 
edge of an enlightened age; but although the most orthodox 
have been compelled to abandon reluctantly the idea of the em- 
bodiment of evil, it cannot be denied that there seems to be a 
subtle influence which favors iniquity and breeds evil with the 
most remarkable profusion. An evil thought is like the incep- 
tion of a draught into which kindred matter is drawn on the 
principle of suction. Was Jean’s conduct impelled by such a 
force? Antoine had not waited more than fifteen minutes, when 
behold! the face of the expected visitor appeared in the door. 
He pretended to start from a comfortable dose. 

“Come in! come in!” he cried, pointing to an easy-chair. “You 
are a real God-send to a poor fellow who does not know how to 
spend a tedious afternoon.” 

Jean accepted the proffered chair. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


255 


“These are tedious times, and no mistake,” he said, “Unless 
something turns up to divert our thoughts, we shall be com- 
pelled to join the Nationals from sheer ennui, Antoine.” 

“Perhaps we shall, Jean; but in the meantime we cannot afford 
to die of tediousness: what will you give me for a bright idea?” 

“Due praise, Antoine : that is all a fellow can afford in these 
hard times.” 

“And silence, Jean? a fellow can’t afford to pass bright ideas 
like coppers.’* 

“You want me to keep it to myself?” 

“That’s the idea.” 

“Mum is the word then.” 

“You are a good fellow, Jean; just the chap to suit my taste. 
That’s the reason I selected you for my confident. Now watch 
and pay attention, Jean: this is the 2 6th of October .” 

“Is that all the secret?” inquired Jean, looking sheepish. “If 
so, there’s not much occasion for secrecy. I warrant that fact is 
pretty generally known.” 

“So it is no doubt; but another fact is not.” 

“And this fact?” 

“Is my secret. What would you say, Jean, if I told you that 
the 26th of October is my birth-day?” 

“I would congratulate you, Antoine.” 

“Thank you. And if I told you that I had procured a jug of 
genuine stuff and two tumblers for the occasion?” 

“I should say: out with it to drink your health.” 

Instead of replying, Antoine rose and locked the door. Then 
he opened the chest and placed jug and tumblers upon the table. 
Jean had viewed the first measure with suspicion. 

“What is that for?” he inquired, with the mien of a person de- 
prived of his liberty. 

Antoine pointed with his thumb across his shoulder. 

“The old lady !” he whispered, mysteriously. “I should have 
liked to invite brother Maurice; but his better half would have 
objected. She is boss, you know, and death on liquor.” 

Jean saw the point. He knew that the ladies up stairs were 
not any more partial to liquor than the lady down stairs, So, in- 
stead of feeling the locking of the door as a measure of oppres- 


256 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


sion, he began to consider it as a measure of protection. Be- 
sides, Antoine had meanwhile opened the jug and poured a brandy 
of beautiful color and tempting smell into the tumblers. He 
felt a growing appetite for the liquor, and when Antoine took his 
glass and pledged him for a toast, he eagerly followed the invita- 
tion and poured down the brandy with a relish that promised the 
best success for Antoine’s plan. The two now sat down in good 
earnest ; but, while the host merely 'pretended to imbibe freely, 
the guest poured down tumbler after tumbler, until the flood- 
gates of his mind stood wide open, suffering his most secret 
thoughts to flow forth in torrents. Now Antoine thought it 
time to turn the conversation upon the desired point. 

“That young fisherman,” he said, “seems to be a lucky fellow. 
He finds ready favor with the ladies. Emily Pordu seems badly 
smitten with his charms, and, to judge from the long visit he 
paid up stairs this morning, your mistress is not averse to him 
either.” 

Jean had heard the word “fisherman,” and, with the tenacity 
peculiar to intoxication, held on to the word at the expense of 
the rest of Antoine’s remarks. 

“Fisherman?” he exclaimed, with the heavy roll of the drunk- 
ard. “Fisherman indeed! What fisherman are you talking 
about?” 

“Why, don’t you reccollect Henri Bouvois, the fisherman, who 
paid a visit to Miss Delmont this morning?” 

Jean smiled a superior smile. 

‘‘Fisherman indeed!” he drawled. “ Fisherman ! Lieutenant, 
you meant to say !” 

Antoine was amazed. Had the brandy deranged his friend’s 
mind? What did he mean with his “lieutenant?” 

“I mean fisherman ,” he said, “and nothing else. What has 
Henri Bouvois'to do with a lieutenant?” 

“A great deal more than you imagine, ha! ha!” 

“But how? I mean Henri Bouvois the fisherman from Mar- 
seilles.” 

“And I mean Robert Le Brun, the lieutenant, from Ger- 
many.” 













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THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 257 

“Jean, don’t talk nonsense! Didn’t you see Henri Bo uvois, 
the fisherman, who called on your mistress this morning.” 

“The deuce take your fisherman!” cried Jean, becoming irri- 
tated. “Don’t I know better? Don’t I know it is all a sham? 
Don’t I know that Le Brun assumed that disguise to have access 
to my mistress, Miss Delmont? Don’t contradict your betters, 
Antoine.” 

Antoine’s amazement changed into bewilderment. Was this 
empty gossip, or did he really stand on the threshold of an im- 
portant secret? It was surely worth while to humor Jean and 
follow up the trace. 

“So you know this Bouvois of old?” 

‘ I don’t know any Bouvois at all.” 

“Well, well, this Le — , this Prussian, I mean.” 

“I think I do, Sir. I ought to, leastways, considering I saw 
him half-a-dozen times.” 

“But where, Jean?” 

“At half-a-dozen places, Antoine. What does it matter to you 
where I saw him. Can’t you take the word of a gentleman.” 

“I do, Jean, of course. I merely spoke at random. What you 
told me is so queer, so wonderful!” 

“I reckon it is wonderful.' ’Tis dangerous too to talk about it. 
Don’t you say a word about it, or I shall break your neck. 
Wouldn’t the officials feel tickled, though, if they knew it!” 

Antoine thought so too. Moreover he formed at that very mo- 
ment the resolution that they should have that gratification of 
their nerves. Of course, he took good care not to betray his in- 
tentions to his pot-companion, for he had no doubt that Jean 
would at once endeavor to make good his promise. Instead of 
that he continued to ply him with questions, until he could no 
longer doubt that his revelations rested upon something more 
substantial than the mere imagination of a fuddled brain. 

When he knew enough, he proposed a nap on the bed, an idea 
which Jean at once embraced with apparent relish. Antoine as- 
sisted him in changing his position, and no sooner had he drop- 
ped on the bed, when a deep breathing and subsequent snore be- 
trayed his immediate transit into the realm of dreams. 

Antoine, on the other hand, dropped into a chair at the bed- 
17 


258 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


side to reflect on his discoveries and to form a resolution. His 
attempt, however, proved more difficult than he had probabty an- 
ticipated. In order to get Jean drunk, he had been obliged to 
imbibe freely himself, and although he had escaped the beastly 
condition of his companion, he was sufficiently under the influ- 
ence of the ardent beverage to form his determination indepen- 
dently of the innate caution of his character. The same liquor 
which had made Jean communicative, now prompted Antoine to 
divulge his secret. He had originally plotted to injure Bouvois, 
the fisherman, in the eyes of Emily. Now, when the ardent spi- 
rit had developed and nurtured the native malice of his heart, 
he lost sight of his original intention and felt an irresistible de- 
sire to denounce him to the authorities as a Prussian sp}^ Per- 
haps he persuaded himself that patriotic motives lay at the bot- 
tom of this desire; but, let this be as it may, he certainly started 
from the room with the firm determination of having the pseudo- 
fisherman arrested without delay. He relocked the door from 
without and put the key in his pocket. After a cautious look in- 
to the hall, which happened to be empty, he ventured the pas- 
sage and soon found himself in the street, complete master of 
the situation. 

But where go? The city-hall was far away, nor was Antoine 
able to divest himself # sufficiently of his rural diffidence to ven- 
ture on so bold and direct a course. He hesitated a minute or 
two, until at last he remembered to have heard that Flourens, a 
man of great influence and public favor, dwelled in the same 
street. He had even been shown the house of this agitator, and, 
as his dizzy brain could think of no other and simpler expedient, 
he resolved to call on Flourens and inform him of his important 
discovery. 

The distance to the house of the modern tribune was but short. 
After a walk of five minutes Antoine found himself standing at 
the entrance of a plain building, which lacked every indication 
of being tenanted by a man of renown or importance. Numer- 
ous visitors went out and in, though, and, following the latter 
class, the dray-man soon found himself in the presence of the 
man he sought. Flourens was engaged in conversation with two 
or three men, and so much engrossed did lie seem in this occu- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


259 


pation, that Antoine hesitated to interrupt him. Indeed, the 
rapid walk had in a measure dispelled the fumes which had op- 
pressed his brain, and he was seriously contemplating the pro- 
priety of beating a retreat, when the group of speakers broke 
up. All arose from their seats, the majority "withdrawing from 
the room, while only two remained, exchanging a few words, as 
if they discussed a point or two of minor import. The eyes of 
one of them accidentally lit upon Antoine, whose expectant pos- 
ture spoke too plainly his desire of being heard to be mistaken. 
The man came forward and said, politely : 

“Fellow-citizen, you want to see me: what can I do for you?” 

The reader will recollect that the fall of the empire had revived 
that mock-equality and fraternity which flourished in 1792, and 
had as distinguishing features the imitation of Roman manners 
and — the guillotine . 

Antoine was abashed in spite of this politeness. He would now 
have gladly withdrawn from the presence of the agitator and 
merely stammered a few incoherent words. 

“Monsieur would excuse — he had intended — but it was of no 
consequence — so with the gentleman’s permission — he would take 
the liberty — ” 

These incoherent remarks could not ruffle the urbanity of 
Flourens. He had evidently learned that even the red republican 
cannot afford to dispense with politeness. 

“Everything coming from a fellow-citizen is of importance to 
me. I am at leisure now, and if you will state the nature of 
jour errand — ” 

Antoine had by this time become really frightened. He no 
longer thought of denouncing Le Brun: he merely studied to 
make an excuse in order to escape as soon as possible from this 
fearful presence. In his embarrassment he thought of using 
Pauline’s name as a pretext for his mission; so he said: 

“I think I entered the wrong house. My mistress, Miss Del- 
mont, has sent me on an errand, and — ” 

He had no time to proceed. The second person present had 
no sooner heard the name of Miss Delmont than he became at- 
tentive. He stepped rapidly towards Antoine and said with ea- 
ger accents: 


260 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

“Miss Delmont, did you say? Where is she? What is the 
matter with her? You say she sent you?” 

These words were uttered with an imperiousness and a vehe- 
mence that completed the confusion of poor Antoine. He stam- 
mered in so incoherent a manner and trembled withal so visibly 
that Flourens saw proper to interfere. 

“Sit down, my friend,” he said, soothingly. “My colleague 
seems to take interest in the name you mentioned : what is it 
with Miss Delmont?” 

“Yes, yes! What is it with her? Speak quickly, my friend, 
speak quickly,” interposed the other. 

But Antoine was nearly past catechizing. Flourens noticed 
it and said : 

“Patience, Dupre. In that way you will never succeed. Come, 
my good friend, what is your name?” 

“Antoine Breux,” replied the visitor, somewhat reassured. 

“Where do you live?” 

“No. 124, St. Paul Street.” 

“That is this street. And your mistress, Miss Delmont, doe& 
she live in the same house?” 

The eyes of the person whom Flourens called Dupre watched 
the lips of Antoine with the most intense suspense. When he 
heard a “yes” in reply, a savage joy lit up his face. 

“Do you know her Christian name?” he inquired. 

“Pauline.” 

“It is she!” exclaimed Dupre. “Flourens, you must excuse 
me. This news ! I would not sell it for a million. Continue ex- 
amining this man, while I — ” 

Flourens pressed his friend back upon his chair. 

“Always this haste!” he scolded. “Can you never learn that 
patience and self-control are the statesman’s fundamental virtues? 
Listen to this man’s overtures. You will have plenty time to se- 
cure your inamorata. Now, fellow-citizen, proceed. You say 
you are in the service of this lady?” 

Antoine’s spirit was broken. A child could have conducted 
his examination. 

“No, Sir,” he replied; “not exactly in her service.” 

But she sent 3^011 here?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


261 


“No, she did not.” 

“But she i^in someway or other connected with your errand?” 

“In a measure, yes.” 

“Would you tell us something about her?” 

“Not about her, but — ” 

“Well, if not about her : about whom then?” 

“About a man who came to see her this morning.” 

“And what would you tell us about him?” 

Antoine hesitated. Flourens saw that he must make the ques- 
tions more pointed. 

“Can . you tell us his name?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“Robert Le Brun.” 

“Robert Le Brun?” 

This exclamation was a double one. Flourens and Dupre had 
uttered the name at the same time; both with surprise, and the 
latter with an admixture of savage delight. He was no longer 
sorry for having waited. Flourens checked himself first. 

“This Le Brun is no Frenchman, is he?” 

“No, Sir; he is a German.” 

“Does he stay in the same house?” 

“No, right across, with Mr. Pordu.” 

“For whom does he pass himself?” 

“For Henri Bouvois, a fisherman.” 

“What do you think he is?” 

“A Prussian officer.” 

“I know he is!” exclaimed Dupre. “But worse than that, he is 
a spy, and spies are shot. Flourens, let me go now.” 

“Not yet, Dupre. Let me first attend to this fellow.” 

The tone in which he said this was by no means compliment- 
ary. Antoine even imagined to discover in it the trace of a men- 
ace. 

“Attend to me ?” he cried. “You will not harm me? What 
have I done?” 

“No, no, Sir; rest easy. I have no intention whatever of harm- 
ing you. Only you must remain here until we have secured this 
Prussian spy.” 


262 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“And how long will that be?” 

“An hour at most. Have no fear whatever, Monsieur Breux: 
we are not in the habit of harming the benefactors of the com- 
monwealth. Step into this room, Sir, and you, George, take care 
of him and allow no access to him whatever. I make you res- 
ponsible for his safety.” 

These words were addressed to a young man who sat at the 
table and seemed to act in the capacity of a secretary. He caught 
a significant glance from his master’s eye, and replied : 

“Aye, aye, Sir; I’ll see to it. Nobody shall touch a hair of his 
head. This way, Monsieur, if you please. I’ll give you the 
very best quarters the house can afford.” 

He left in Antoine’s company, and Flourens and Dupre were 
alone. 

“And now — what next?” the former inquired of his compan- 
ion. 

“That’s what I should like to learn from you. What shall we 
do with him?” 

“Of course arrest him.” 

“In due form of law? Wonldn’t it be shorter to raise a mob 
and have him lynched?” 

He said that so coolly that Flourens could not help shudder- 
ng. 

“No, no, not that !” he said. “Leave his arrest to me. You 
are more deeply interested in the damsel, are you not?” 

“That’s hard to tell. I love the one as intensely as I hate the 
other.” 

“Then secure the girl by all means. I’ll take care of Le 
Brun.” 

“Well, let it be so. When do you intend to make the arrest?” 

“At once, of course. The absence of this fellow might else 
create suspicion. I’ll take a dozen men to provide for emer- 
gencies.” 

“The more the better: you’ll find this Le Brun a desperate cha- 
racter. I for my part shall secure a carriage for my cousin, to 
avoid publicity.” 

“Your cousin? That looks like a little romance.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


263 


“Perhaps it is one. But let us act in concert. We must arrive 
at the same time, or one of the birds might make his escape.” 

“All right, Sir. Engage one carriage for yourself and another 
for me. In the meantime, I’ll secure my dozen Nationals.” 

Both left the room, to meet, fifteen minutes later, in the street 
before the building. Flourens was attended by a squad of men. 

“Where are the carriages?” he inquired. 

“They have orders to follow us at a distance.? 

“That will do. Now, forward to the work.” 

He proceeded, in Dupre’s company, attended by the guards, 
while the carriages followed at a distance. They had gone but a 
short distance, when Dupre pointed to a house across the street, 
and said : 

“There is No. 124.” * 

“Then this must be Pordu’s house. Exactly, here is his name 
on the plate. Now, Dupre, proceed as quietly as possible. It is 
easier to ride on a whirlwind, than to rule a mob. You, Sir, keep 
your men out of sight, but ready for action.” 

The Nationals fell back, and Dupre crossed the street. Flou- 
rens himself stepped up to the entrance and rung the bell. A 
young woman opened the door and inquired after his wishes. 

“I understand there is a friend of mine, Mr. Bouvois, in this 

house. Is he at home?” 

* 

“He is,” replied Emily, somewhat surprised at the early be- 
trayal of the secret. “Have the goodness to step in?” 

She conducted him to the room, where he found Robert sitting 
on a chair and turning the leaves of a book. 

“Henry, here is a friend of yours, who desires to see you.” 

Robert rose to meet the visitor; but he had no sooner cast a 
look upon his face, when he started back, and exclaimed in the 
accents of consternation: 

“Flourens!” 

“You have a good memory,” said the new-comer, with a smile. 
“It is a good while since we met last.” 

Robert struggled for self-possession. 

“Friends generally have numerous communications to ex- 
change,” Flourens continued. “Would Mademoiselle have the 
goodness to grant us a private interview ?” 


264 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Emily had noticed Robert’s agitation, and become alarmed as 
well. She hesitated and looked at him inquiringly. In the mean- 
time Robert had recovered from his surprise. The withdrawal 
of the young girl could do no harm, so he turned to her and said, 
pleasantly : 

“Let it b,e as this gentleman desires. We shall not long deprive 
you of the use of your room.” 

His words reassured her. 

“Never mind me, gentlemen,”' she said. “I am sure you are 
welcome to the room as long as you want it.” 

With these words she withdrew, and the quondam friends but 
present enemies were alone. Robert was the first to speak. 

“Well, Sir,” he said, pointedly, “what does this visit signify?, 
Do I b^Rold in you a friend or foe?” 

He drew his revolver during these words, a circumstance show- 
ing plainly how seriously he doubted the friendly intentions of 
the visitor. 

Flour ens smiled. 

“Why, Robert,” he replied; “that might greatly depend upor 
the explanation of your presence here.” 

Robert made an impatient gesture. 

“Of course I didn’t come to make love here,” he said. “Con- 
strue my presence in the worst light, and then answer my ques- 
tion: What do you want?” 

“In that case, Monsieur Le Brun, I come to arrest you.” 

“Indeed!” said Robert in a scornful voice* “And you imagine 
that an easy matter? I did not come to Paris to be arrested.” 

“I suppose you did not,” replied Flourens, preserving his bland- 
ness and courtesy. “But then a person is sometimes disappoin- 
ted, you know.” 

“We are all subject to disappointments,” said Robert. “You, 
for instance, will be disappointed if you expect to take me hence 
a living man.” 

Flourens viewed him with a mixture of affection and admira- 
tion. 

“Sit down, my friend, and let us reason the matter,” he said, 
calmly, taking a chair himself, and motioning Robert to another. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


265 


“You prefer to stand? Very well, I am the last person to restrict 
individual liberty. But don’t get impatient if I state the case 
calmly.” 

Robert made merely a gesture of impatience. 

“The case stands thus,” Flourens resumed. ‘Half-an-hour ago 
I was in my office with a certain Mr. Dupre, — you know Dupre, 
Alcibiades Dupre?” 

Robert started at this name and nodded. 

“Very well. All at once a fellow comes into the room, and 
tells us that we would find a certain German officer, called Le 
Brun, at this house, and a certain lady, called Miss Pauline Del- 
mont, in the house across.” 

Here Robert interrupted him with an exclamotion of painful 
surprise 

“You feel alarmed, Monsieur? Mon Dieu, you have reason, I 
assure you. When Dupre heard the news, he roared like a lion, 
and spoke about raising a mob to lynch you. I did not like the 
idea. I was foolish enough to allow old recollections to rise 
within my mind. I am a Frenchman, a 'patriotic Frenchman ; 
but the pledges and oaths of olden times over-came my patriot- 
ism, and I resolved to save you. No demonstrations, Sir, if you 
please; [ am not half through yet. I resolved to save you. But 
how accomplish it? that was the question. It was a knotty one, 
I warrant you. This Dupre is a savage brute, ready to pounce 
upon you. To let him go would have been your ruin : to disap- 
point him would have been mine . These mobs are dangerous 
weapons : they cut both ways. It would not do then to let you 
escape. I was compelled to arrest you for our mutual safety . 
Do you now comprehend? Are you still ready to resist your cap- 
ture, revolver in hand?” 

“And who warrants me the sincerity of your intentions?” 

“My oath, my word of honor, both of which I pledge you 
freely. Just reflect a moment, Robert. No earthly power can 
save you from arrest or death, if you repel my mediation. Dupre 
is without. He can raise a mob in a few minutes, a mob that 
will delight in hunting you to death, and tear your body into a 


266 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

thousand shreds. These Parisian mobs are ugly institutions, 
Robert.” 

“But Miss Delmont?” inquired Robert, with deep concern in 
his voice. “Supposing I submit to your dictates: what will be- 
come of her?” 

Flourens shrugged his shoulders. 

“I am neither omnipotent nor omniscient, my friend,” he said. 
“But does her fate so deeply concern you?” 

“I value her welfare more highly than my life.” 

“Is that the case? I am sorry for yoir both, Robert* Bnt 
cheer up, my friend; we do not live in Turkey where a bashaw 
can fore e a girl into his harem. Besides, this state of things 
cannot last long. I suppose I will not injure my country by 
stating my belief that further resistance to your arms is not only 
useless but will soon be impossible. With this belief is it not 
sound policy to save the life of an old friend whose intercession 
may soon count heavily in my favor?” 

This was said with a gloomy smile playing on the speaker’s 
countenance. It evidently determined Robert, who put the re- 
volver in his pocket, held out his hand and said : 

“I accept your offer and your pledge, Flourens.” 

“And you give your word of honor to abstain from any at- 
tempts to escape on the way to prison ?” 

“Why do you want my word?” inquired Robert, with renewed 
suspicion.” 

“How dull you are!” said Flourens, with a touch of impatience. 
“Don’t you see that it is our interest to avoid all needless pub- 
licity? If you refuse to give your word, I have to order an es- 
cort. I am bound to save you in spite of you.” 

“Well, have your way,” said Robert. “I deliver myself entirely 
to your generosity.” 

“That is a wise determination. But now take your hat and fol 
low me. There is a carriage for us in the street. Do 3^011 want 
to say farewell to your hostess?” 

“No, no ! It would only embarrass me. We may as well de- 
part at once.” 

The two now left the room. The3 r had reached the street, be- 
fore Emily became aware of their intention. She hastened to 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


267 


the front door, and came in time to see how Robert’s companion 
spoke to a squad of Nationals, and then proceeded to a carriage 
into which they both entered. The driver whipped his horses, 
and, a minute later, the carriage had disappeared* A vague sen- 
sation of alarm seized the girl’s heart. What could these mys- 
terious movements all mean? Did they portend danger to the 
man who, in a few hours, had made such a deep impression upon 
her heart? With a heavy sigh she re-entered the house, the prey 
of the most unbearable of all sensations — suspense. * 


CHAPTER XNIII. 

While Flourens thus obeyed the dictates of his heart rather 
than those of duty, Dupre was very differently engaged. 
We know that he approached the house of Monsieur Breux. 
With him we shall now enter, and hear him inquire for Miss Pau- 
line Delmont. Maurice was aware of the young lady’s relations 
to her cousin; but he did not know him personally. So, when 
the stranger inquired for her, he told him, that she lived up stairs, 
and begged him to ascend and communicate his wishes to the 
servants whom he would find in the first room. Dupre obeyed ; 
but, as he was anxious to see the mistress and not the servants, 
he passed the first room with stealthy step and never stopped un- 
til he stood before the door at the end of the passage. Even 
then he dispensed with the usual form of knocking ; but, turning 
the knob, opened the door and entered the room. Pauline stood 
with her face to the window, busily engaged in packing some 
clothes, Ascribing the informal entrance to her servant, she 
said, without turning: 

“Is that you, Jeannette? Where in the world may Jean be? I 
need his company for a little walk I mean to take.” 

“Perhaps my fair cousin might deign to accept my company 
instead.” 

The first word made Pauline start, and caused her to confront 
the intruder with the rapidity of lightning. The voice had awak- 


268 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ened an unpleasant echo in her bosom ; but when, on turning, she 
saw her suspicion verified, a short scream of terror escaped her 
lips. This scream drew Jeannette from her room, and no sooner 
did the faithful girl behold the visitor, than she too uttered a cry 
of dismay* After that she folded her hands, and remained a 
mute witness of the following scene. 

Pauline’s scream had brought a derisive smile to Dupre’s lips. 

“My presence seems neither expected nor agreeable,” he said. 
“Permit me to express my regret at both.” 

But Pauline Delmont was not the girl to submit tamel} T to 
what she considered an imposition. Overcoming her consterna- 
tion with commendable rapidit}^ she said, indignantly : 

“I want neither your excuses nor your presence. How can 
you dare to thus violate the privacy of my room?” 

“Oh! as to boldness,” he said, with a sneer, “a certain young 
lady and cousin of mine set me a good example. Was it not 
bold, perhaps, to elope from home and friends ?” 

“Bold, or not bold, thank God, I am not responsible to you 
for my actions. You are my fathers ward. I act in the capacity 
of his deputy.” 

“I do not recognize your authority. Once for all: free me of 
your hateful presence and leave this room.” 

“And if I refuse to comply?” 

“Then I shall request my landlord to teach you manners.” 

Dupre smiled scornfully in the corsciousness of his impreg- 
nable position. 

“Before you carry out your threat”, he said with an affected 
calmness, “allow me to make a single statement. In your house 
across the way was , hut fifteen minutes agof i a German officer , 
hailing by the name of Miller , alias Le Brun .” 

These few words, so simple in themselves, had a terrible effect 
on the poor girl. She gasped ; a tremor shook her body and 
she had to seize the back of a chair to keep from falling. A 
painful moan was all the reply she was able to make. 

“Oho! My lady seems interested in my statement”, Dupre re- 
sumed with the previous touch of mockery in his voice. “That 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 269 

encourages me to make another. Monsieur Miller is no longer 
in the house : he is on his way to prison .” 

“Monster!” was all Pauline could utter. 

“Thank you Madum. Such kindness on your part deserves a 
return. I continue in my statements. Monsieur Miller will not 
remain in prison very long. He has been arrested for a spy 
and will either be shot , or abandoned to the mercy of the po- 
pulace , before the clock strikes eight to-morrow morning. Has 
my lady any other titles to confer on me? I like to have an 
equivalent for my revelations.” 

“Monster!” Pauline exclaimed a second time. Then, unable 
to bear up any longer under such terrible disclosures, she sank 
upon a sofa, the very sofa which had witnessed her recent hap- 
piness, and broke out into a series of convulsive sobs. Jeannette 
hastened to her assistance and tried to soothe her with the most 
comforting words. Not so Dupre who seemed determined to the 
end. 

“Your favorite is lost”, he began anew. “This time nobody 
can save him. There is no emperor to order his respite. No 
voice will intercede for the German spy; as the sun [will rise to- 
morrow over Paris, just so surely will he shine upon his exe- 
cution.” 

Continued sobs on the part of Pauline; idle efforts to console 
her on the part of Jeannette. For five minutes Dupre maintain- 
ed an impressive silence. At last he resumed in a solemn tone. 

“There is only one man in Paris able to save him — and that 
man stands before you.” 

Pauline’s hands disappeared from her face; she raised her head 
and looked with tearful eyes at her tormentor. 

“Whjy do you say that, you who seek his death with the eager- 
ness of the bloodhound ?” 

“True, I did at one time — I do not now. Circumstances alter 
cases. I have lost my interest in the destruction of this fellow.” 

Pauline rose to her feet. 

“But why do you tell me this? You do not speak at random ; 
you are too cunning, too designing for that.” 

“You deserve credit for your penetration. I spoke indeed to a 
purpose, as you will perceive, if you listen to me a moment Ion- 


270 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ger. I told you before that I am the onl} r man in Paris bold 
enough to undertake his rescue : I now add that I possess not 
merely the courage but also the disposition to deliver him.” 

Pauline made a start towards the speaker. Her countenance 
brightened and her hands were stretched out imploringly. 

“Is it possible !” she cried, “Do you not merely say this to 
plunge me with new-born hopes more deeply into despair? Oh 
tell me how this miracle came about?” 

“There is no miracle about it, Pauline Delmont”, he replied 
with an ugly smile, “I am too practical a man for your Utopia? 
where men are virtuous merely for virtue’s sake. In undertak- 
ing this ticklish job, I run a risk and for that risk I expect a 
compensation. In other words you can hire me, provided you 
pay me well.” 

Pauline’s face fell visibly. 

“Pay you?” she stammered. “How can I pay you?” 

“Oh easily. All you have to do, is to comply with two con 
ditions !” 

“And these conditions!” 

“Are easity fulfilled.” 

“Name them ! name them !” 

“You’ll know them soon enough. The first is: you must fol- 
low me willing^ from this house.” 

“And the second?” 

“You must become my wedded wife before the hour of mid- 
night/’ 

Pauline shrank back in horror. Then, suddenly, she broke 
out into a laugh, so hollow and unnatural, that it created a chil- 
ling sensation even in Dupre’s hardened breast. 

“Fool that I was to take your words in earnest!” she exclaim- 
ed. “But fool also that you are to think that you could entrap 
me in so obvious a snare. Marry you to-night to see you feed 
your eyes to-morrow on his gory head ! Maddening, as your re- 
velations are, I am not as yet sufficiently insane to accept such 
a monstrous proposal.” 

He winced under her words and quailed beneath her searching 
glances. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


271 


“And wliat conditions will you accept then?” he inquired 
sullenly. 

“No conditions falling due before the fulfillment of the stipu- 
lated work, at all events.” 

“Then, will yon marry me to-morrow morning? 

“In time you mean to recover the fugitive?” 

He looked furiously. 

“You will not listen to any terms, I see. Well, let it be so. 
The churl may die, for all I care. On your head come his blood!” 

He turned to go, perhaps merely pretending to do so. How- 
ever that may be, Pauline gave him no time to execute the 
measure. 

“Stop !” she cried with a voice which clearty betrayed the fear- 
ful struggle ragingin her bosom. “You shall not leave me thus 
with false pretenses, invoking on me the wrath of heaven for 
the immolation of your victim.” 

“I give you a chance to save this victim. By rejecting this 
chance, you destroy him, not I.” 

“But to spare your victim you require another. Alcibiades, is 
there nothing short of this terrible demand that you would be 
willing to accept ? Listen to my prayer ! Have pity for once ! 
Behold me here on my knees imploring you for mercy as you 
hope for mercy on the day of judgement!” 

He looked at her cold and unmoved. 

“You have a fine talent for oratory”, he said. “You could 
make capital out of it on the stage, no doubt; but as to me, I am 
proof against such tricks. If 3'ou want to move me , get up and 
show that you mean business. Time flies rapidly and if you 
want to save your darling, husband the precious minutes.” 

Pauline had risen, her mien expressing a mixture of anguish 
and disgust. She struggled silently for a minute; then she re- 
plied : 

“Well, let it be then, as you say. If there is to be a victim let 
me furnish it. But to marry you to-morrow? Never! Listen to 
the only terms I can concede.” 

A calm resignation had taken the place of her previous excite- 
ment; but so grand and beautiful did she look in her exaltation 
that Dupre felt more cowed than ever. 


272 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“If Robert Le Brun escape this coming night through your 
influence and exertion from his prison and this city, so as to 
reach the German lines in perfect safety, I shall, six months from 
now, reach you n^ hand before God’s altar.” 

A wild joy flamed up in Dupre’s eyes. 

“Here is a Bible, I see,” he said. Have you any objection to 
swear to this your promise?” 

“I have not; although I would have kept my promise as faith- 
fully as my oath.” 

“I am satisfied. In regard to the other conditions, you have 
no scruples, I suppose.” • 

“Your supposition is fallacious. After my promise it can 
make no difference to you where I reside. I prefer greatly to 
remain where I am.” 

“But in case of a bombardment, you would be in danger here.” 

“I am in God’s hands wherever I stay.” 

This was said with so much simplicity and sincerity that Du- 
pre did not venture to object. 

“Very well,” he said, after a while. “Be it as you wish. Of 
course } r ou will have no liberty to withdraw from here; for your 
promise implies that I shall find you at the appointed time.” 

“You shall find me here. But do not forget that these six 
months are mine , and that 1 shall suffer no intrusion on any 
pretext whatever.” 

“You are severe,” he grumbled, “and I hardly know why I suf- 
fer myself to be treated in this fashion. However, you have the 
best of me just now, and I shall abide my time, But when my 
term of probation is over : then, Madam, 1 shall suffer no earthly 
power to prevent me from seizing the costly prize. Until then, 
Madam, farewell !” 

He turned and left the room, No sooner had the door closed 
upon him, when Pauline threw herself with a cry of the wildest 
anguish upon the bosom of the faithful servant-girl and sobbed 
as if her heart would break. Poor girl! she had secured a great 
boon; but she had bought it at a fearful cost. 

The interview had been too noisy to escape the attention of 
the people down stairs. As long as Dupre remained, they ab- 
staiued from showing themselves; but no sooner had he departed 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 273 

than they appeared at the door, evincing in their anxious faces 
so much solicitude that Pauline felt touched. 

“Come in, good Mends,” she said. “I have nothing to hide 
from you.” 

“That man did not harm you?” inquired Maurice. “I felt like 
interfering all the while ; but abstained because I was afraid of 
being considered forward. Besides I thought if you had needed 
my assistance — ” 

“I should have called on you. You are right, Mr. Breux. I 
had a hard battle to fight with. that man; but it was voluntary on 
my part, and you could not have rendered me any assistance.” 

“And is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No, my friend, not to my knowledge. Only you might send 
Jean; I want to give him some orders.” 

“Jean is not in the house, Madam, nor Antoine either. They 
must have gone out together. But listen, there is a knock. It 
comes from Antoine’s room. I’ll just run down, and see what’s 
the matter.” 

Ten minutes afterwards he returned ‘in company with Jean, who 
had sobered down sufficiently to preserve his balance. He looked 
very sheepish and crest-fallen, however, and hung his head to 
avoid the glances of those present. 

“Whj r , what is this, Jean ?” Jeannette accosted him, rather 
sharply. “You have been drinking again, confess it.” 

“I don’t deny it,” he said, sullenly. “But it wasn’t my fault ; 
I was drawn into it.” 

“Drawn into it!” echoed Jeannette. “Aint you man enough to 
resist temptation? A fine excuse, indeed ! And who drew you 
in, please?” 

“Antoine.” 

“It was in Antoine’s room I found him locked up,” said Mau- 
rice, gravely. “What on earth can have been my brother’s mo- 
tive ?” 

“He said he wanted to celebrate his birth-day which falls on 
the 26th of October.” 

“Did he tell you so?” inquired Maurice, in amazement. 

“Of course he did.” 

13 


274 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

“Then he has imposed on you. He was born in the month of 
May'.” 

Jeannette had been an attentive listener. At Maurice’s last 
words she started. 

“Oh, mercy! I think I understand it all now!” she cried, wring- 
ing her hands. “Antoine has set Dupre upon our track.” 

“Jeannette!” Maurice exclaimed, reproachfully. “Do you know 
that you utter a grave accusation against my brother ?” 

“I am sorry, but it is the truth. I can prove every word I say. 
When the young stranger called this morning, I heard Antoine 
creep up stairs with ever so much caution. Now, what did he do 
that for? To pry into affairs that didn’t concern him. When ho 
saw me, he turned as red as a beet. Then he inquired for Jean. 
Now, what did he want Jean for? To pump him, of course. 
There he stands, the wretch who is mean enough to babble his 
mistress’ secrets. Get out of my sight, Sir, for you are entirely 
mistaken if you think that I shall hereafter own you.” 

Jean stood there, the very image of contrition. 

“I did not mean to,”, at last he stammered forth. “What I 
said I said under the influence of liquor, and if I betrayed any 
secrets, Antoine had no business to make a big fuss about it.” 

“There Antoine again!” said Maurice, sadly. “Where can he 
be? I wish lie were here to answer these grave charges.” 

“You won’t see him very soon, I reckon,” replied Jeannette.. 
“He’ll be slow to see the mischief he has worked.” 

“Then I must try to find him. I want this doubt cleared up. 
If he is innocent I want him to have the benefit of the discovery. 
If he has actually betrayed his brother’s friends, he must no 
longer disgrace my house with his presence.” 

The seed of evil grows fast. Like cancer, iniquity is sure to 
spread and destroy peace and happiness all around. Maurice and 
his wife returned to their quarters a troubled couple. The for- 
mer took his hat and cane and visited all the places which his 
brother was in the habit of frequenting. At the expiration of 
two hours he returned without having found the slightest trace 
of the missing one. When dusk set in, a double shade fell upon 
the household. Sorrow up stairs — anxiety below. The meal was 
taken in silence. It was no sooner finished than Pauline returned 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


275 


to her room, aud there gave herself up to the painful pleasure of 
reyelling in her grief. At first Jeannette attempted to put in an 
occasional word or two of comfort; but when she saw that these 
attempts were not only impatiently received, but even fretfully 
rejected, she withdrew to her own room, and gave to Jean the 
benefit of an eloquence which she was prevented from practising 
on her mistress. 

As darkness increased, the streets began to exhibit an unusual 
degree of activity. The tread of many persons was heard cou- 
pled with the peculiar hum arising from the voices of a large and 
animated crowd. At first these sounds escaped the ear of the 
mourning maiden; but when the tumult increased, shrill cries of 
individuals rising above the general din, she became attentive 
and went to the window to learn the nature of the commotion. 
Here she was joined by Jeannette, who always sought the pro- 
tecting presence of her mistress when anything alarmed her. 

“Dear me! what is going on now?” she inquired, anxiously. 
Pauline of course could not tell her ; but a few distant cries soon 
convinced them that the commotion was of a political character. 

“A bas les ministres! vive la commune! On to the prison ! 
Let’s liberate the victims of tyranny!” 

These and other cries rose to the ears of the listeners. “On 
to the prison!” sounded especially significant to Pauline Delmont. 
Could this tumult have anything to do with Dupre’s plans? 
Was he influential enough to thus sway the masses? Was he 
able to do it in so short a time? Not quite three hours had elap- 
sed since his visit, and already the street was the scene of com- 
motion, the people seeming ripe for any kind of mischief. 

Her heart beat violently at these thoughts ; but soon the in- 
creasing riot paralyzed all power of thinking, her mind center- 
ing in her eyes and ears to watch the development of affairs. 
The crowd did not stand still. It floated like the waves of an 
endless stream, now thinner, now condensed, sending forth pas- 
sionate cries and exclamations, as the overcharged galvanic bat- 
tery sends forth the fiery spark. 

Towards ten o’clock a figure approached the house, opened the 
door by means of a key and entered. 


276 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

“It is Maurice,” said Jeannette. “Shall I tell him to come up 
stairs?” 

“No, let us go down,” replied Pauline, and a minute later the 
two stood in the room below* where Maurice Breux had thrown 
himself into an arm-chair, resting from exertions which seemed 
to have exhausted his strength. 

“What is the matter, Monsieur Breux,” inquired Pauline; “what 
do the people want?” 

“That, Madam, is hard to sa}^. I really doubt whether they 
know it themselves. The Parisians are excitable, you see, and 
the slightest provocation makes them spit fire and flame.” 

“Then they merely amuse themselves shouting and yelling?” 

“Not exactly. From shouting to acting is but a single step. 
The people are tired of the siege and its privations; and, being 
unafcle to spend their spleen upon the Germans, they wreak it 
upon their own government.” 

“Is it possible? Did they not, a few short weeks ago, greet 
this very government with the wildest enthusiasm?” 

•‘They did, Madam; but a few weeks is a long period for a Pa- 
risian mob. They are simply tired of Trochu, of Favre and 
their colleagues, and clamor for a change. And a change they 
will have before to morrow night, if I am not mistaken.” 

“Then they have committed overt acts of insurrection?” 

“Overt and flagrant, I assure you. I witnessed their attack 
upon the city-prison.” 

“The city-prison !” exclaimed Pauline, eagerly. “Oh, Monsieur 
Maurice, please tell us all about it.” 

“Indeed, there isn’t much to be told. I suffered myself to be 
carried off by the crowd, which seemed to be bound for the jail. 
I judged so from their cries, for every second shout I heard was: 
to the prison ! When I arrived on the spot, the night was lit up 
by many torches. I saw how axes battered down the heavy 
doors ; I heard the savage shout of a thousand voices hail the 
disappearance of the obstacle. The mob rushed in, and, ten 
minutes later, there wasn’t a? prisoner in the building.” 

“And that was all?” 

“Well, what else would you expect? That was all as far as the 
prison is concerned. The people continued their shouting, their 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 277 

singing and marching. There, listen, they haven’t tired yet. I 
shouldn’t wonder if some would stick to it all night.” 

“But there will be no further excesses?” 

“That’s hard to tell, Miss Pauline. I am afraid tlie} ? are bent 
upon mischief. If they carry out half their threats, they’ll make 
an attempt to-morrow to upset the government.” 

After a few further remarks the family retired to bed. Their 
slumber, however, was frequently interrupted by riotous demon- 
strations in the street. Nor did these demonstrations cease in 
the morning. On the contrary, they seemed to gain new strengtn 
with the return of day-light, and it soon became evident that the 
apprehensions of Maurice Breux would be verified. Early in the 
morning armed bands organized in different parts of the city, and 
then marched towards a common center, the city-hall, conducted 
by able but reckless leaders, who endeavored to excite the pas- 
sions of the mob to fever heat by all the means in their possession ♦ 

In the city-hall the regular government held its sessions. The 
members had not anticipated this revolt, and were therefore, for 
the moment, without the means to suppress it. Flourens and his 
associates triumphed, and took the entire committee of defense 
prisoners. In their place Flourens appointed a new committee 
of safety, consistimg of such men as Ledru Rollin, Blanqui and 
Victor Hugo. We find the tribune, flushed with success, in the 
city-hall, exercising with commendable zeal the functions of his 
self-assumed position. At that moment he was dictator, When 
he heard that Picard, Trochu, Jules Simon, Magnin and Ferry 
had made their escape, he ordered Jules Favre, Garnier-Pages 
and Tamisier, to be watched with double vigilance. Not content 
with the success achieved in the city of Paris, he resolved to 
send his apostle out into the provinces to preach the doctrine of 
the red republic, and push at the same time the preparations for 
the expulsion of the German hosts. For such a mission he 
needed his most devoted disciples, and so we need not wonder to 
find Alcibiades Dupre amongst their number. To him Flourens 
gave the special commission to agitate the districts in the Ger- 
man rear; to organize bands of franc-tireurs, and to do the enemy 
tall the injury in his power. Dupre showed himself willing enough 
to accept this charge. To reside in Paris just then did not offer 


278 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON 


any particular charm. The society of Pauline Delmont was for- 
bidden him for six months, and so he declared himself ready to 
start upon his mission without delay, although he knew that he 
would have to make his exit from the city b}^ balloon. The go- 
vernment kept these aeronautic apparatuses ready for the regular 
mail-service, and so Flourens found no difficulty in dispatching 
his messengers that very day. There were three passengers be- 
sides Dupre. The balloon was filled; the passengers took their 
seats ; the mail-bags were deposited at their feet; the rope which 
held the machine was cut, and, amidst the shouts of the assem- 
bled multitude, the balloon shot upwart into the air. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

The hope that the surrender of Napoleon and his army at Se- 
dan would lead to peace proved fallacious. November shows as 
many bloody conflicts as any other period of this short but san 
guinary war. The Army of the Loire fought on the 17th the 
battle of Dreux; on the 18th that of Chateauneuf; on the 21st 
that of Bretonzelles; on the 28th that of Beaume la Rolande. 

The Armjr of the North, under the leadership of Manteufcl, 
was equally active. On the 27th it defeated the French in a 
bloody battle near Amiens, and, on the 28th, took that important 
city. 

The army of Paris made, in that month, two sorties, the first 
one, on the 20th, at L’Hoy; the second and bloodier one, on the 
30th, at Cretil. This latter sortie came nearer being a success 
than any previous attempt on the part of the besieged army. 
The French drove back the investing forces, and advanced as 
far as Brie and Champigny, which villages they held until the 
2nd of December. On that day the Germans assaulted the two 
places with great vigor, and, although the French maintained 
the ground during the entire struggle, they saw themselves finally 
compelled to evacuate the villages, to destroy the pontoon-bridges, 
by means of which they had crossed the Marne, and to retreat to 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 279 

their old position under the guns of the forts, thus virtually con- 
ceding the palm to- their enemies. 

The Germans, however, suffered severely in the combat. The 
Bavarian jmgers, who had participated, were decimated. Haller 
had two horses killed under him. Scliultze received an ulgy 
flesh-wound in his thigh, and Miller, who had thus far escaped 
without a scratch, had his left arm shattered by a musket-ball. 
Fortunately one of the sugeons of the regiment was near at hand. 
He examined the fracture and pronounced it bad but curable. 
Miller, who had already feared an amputation, breathed more 
freely at this announcement, and willingly obeyed the surgeon 
who bandaged the arm temporarily, and told Miller to go at once 
to the next hospital and have the wound properly attended to, if 
lie wished to preserve the limb. Our friend possessed that dread 
of being crippled to which even the bravest are subject. He 
could storm a battery without wincing; but trembled at the 
thought of losing an arm. This dread made him docile. It in- 
duced him to follow implicitly the directions of the head-surgeon 
who advised the greatest care. 

“You ought to take a month’s furlough, and go to Nancy or 
Kaiserslautern,” he said. “We are too thronged here to give 
your arm the proper attention. Besides, you ought to be removed 
from the excitement of actual warfare.” 

To obtain this furlough was an easy matter. On the second 
-of December he had been wounded, and, on the afternoon of the 
third, Haller handed him the necessary papers. At the same 
time the major was the bearer of a royal gift to both Miller and 
Schultze. This gift consisted of nothing less than the Iron Cross, 
the coveted badge of distinction for extraordinary bravery. 
Robert’s eyes beamed with pleasure at the reception of the gift; 
but a moment later a shadow passed over his face. 

“And you?” he inquired of Haller. 

The major with a smile unbuttoned his over-coat and displayed 
the badge on his breast. 

“All right,” said Robert. “Now I am satisfied. This is a splen- 
did balm for a broken arm. You’ll see it will heal a whole month 
before the regular time.” 

“Let it have its regular time, Robert,” said Schultze. “Gladly 


280 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


as we shall hail your return: you’ll be subject to our severest re- 
primand, if you show your face a moment too soon.” 

Robert promised punctual obedience to their wishes, and, with 
their assistance, climbed into the carriage which was to take him 
to the next railroad station. After a last shake of his unharmed 
right, the horses started and soon carried him out of the sight 
of his friends. 

“It feels so queer to be without him,” said Schultze, scratching 
his head. “I wish the ‘parlez-vous’ would make another sortie 
just to give me something to do.” 

“Don’t you fret!” replied Haller, with a laugh. ‘‘You’ll get 
enough of their sorties yet, I warrant you.” 

They separated to attend to their respective duties. On the 
next morning, however, Schultze rushed into Haller’s room, the 
greatest consternation depicted on his face. 

“Halloa! What’s the matter now? Another sortie?” 

“Worse, Haller, a great deal worse. There was an accident 
on the eastern railway last night.” 

“And that puts you in such a frenzy?” 

“Oh, Haller, how short-sighted you are ! Have you forgotten 
Robert Miller?” 

This question brought Haller to his feet. 

“It wasn’t his train, was it? Speak, August; has he been 
hurt?” 

“Yes, worse than that,” 

“What! killed?” 

He grasped Schultze’ s arm in painful suspense. 

“Not killed, but missing.” 

“How can that be?” Haller asked, impatiently. “Come, come., 
explain t your Job’s post.” 

“I shall, if you will let me get my breath.” 

He heaved a mournful sigh, and then resumed: 

“The accident happened near Changis, where the train fell 
through a bridge into the Marne.” 

“How is that possible? Every railroad bridge is guarded.” 

“It seems that the guard of this one were surprised hy franc- 
tireurs. Tne dispatch speaks of traces of a fight, which seems 
to have occurred near the bridge previous to the disaster. It asks 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 281 

for reinforcements to pursue and punish the perpetrators of the 
deed.” 

“Was anybody killed?” 

“Yes, quite a number.” 

“And Robert is reported missing?” 

“Yes, Sir. It seems that the passenger-list was afterwards re- 
covered. The dispatch says especially that Lieutenant Miller 
could not be found.” 

“Perhaps — his body — lies in the Marne.” 

Schultze groaned aloud. 

“That unhappy thought! I too have been compelled to enter- 
tain it.” 

Haller pressed his hand upon his bosom, as if he wanted to 
stifle his emotions by one powerful effort. 

“It isn’t certain, August,” he said, as if he wanted to console 
himself as well as Schultze. 

“No, we have the benefit of a doubt; but that doubt is more 
painful than the worst certainty. It must not continue,” said 
Schultze. 

“It shall not continue. Still we must hope until we know the 
worst. Where is the unluck} 7 dispatch ?” 

•‘On the way to head-quarters.” 

“Then to head quarters we must go. Please have two horses 
saddled, while I get ready.” 

Five mirutes later Haller stepped from the building. At the 
same time two horses were led to the door. Mounting one and 
beckoning Schultze to follow his example, he set spurs to his 
steed and forced it to a rapid galop. Schultze kept close to his 
heels, and in less than an hour they had reached Versailles. 
They stopped at head-quarters, and, as Haller’s capacity of ad- 
jutant gave him free access to the interior, the two entered with- 
out delay. Just as they entered the anti-room of Frederic Wil- 
liam, the prince stepped from his cabinet. His brow was con- 
tracted, and he sent his eye searchingly across the room. When 
it met Haller, his face lit up, and, beckoning the new-comer with 
his hand, he said : 

“Come in, major.” 

He turned, followed by Haller, while Schultze remained in the 


282 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ante -room When the prince had reached his cabinet, he turned, 
and said, with an animated voice : 

“I am glad I noticed you. We received a telegram just now 
that requires immediate attention. Just think of it ! The franc- 
tireurs have had the boldness to blow up a railroad bridge, and 
take the passengers prisoners.” 

“I heard of it, Highness. Indeed it is this dispatch which 
brought me here so rapidly.” 

“I knew I could count on your energetic co-operation. I sent 
for Moltke, although the case is clear enough. These fellows 
must be punished with such rigor as to lose all relish for a repe- 
tition of the offense.” 

“That is my opinion, and if your Royal Highness would en- 
trust me with the execution of the penalty, I should consider 
myself under lasting obligations.” 

“Why so? You go yourself? That would hardly be necessary. 
But here comes Moltke. Excellency, have you already heard of 
this nefarious business?” 

“Nothing but rumors, Prince. Have you authentic news? A 
telegram? With your permission — ” 

The general glanced over the dispatch. All at once he started. 

“What! Lieutenant Miller!” he sa*d, with contracted brows. 
“If the rascals have hurt a hair upon his head, I shall hang every 
mother’s son of them.’ , 

“It is for his sake, Highness, that I want the command of the 
expedition,” Haller ventured to remark. Moltke looked around, 
and nodded: 

“Ah, major, that is you. He is your friend? You cannot have 
a better one. Prince, let him go at all events.” 

“But oughtn’t we to send cavalry?” 

“No, no, Highness. It is cunning, not swiftness, that catches 
these rascals. What troops do you belong to, major?” 

“The Bavarian jaegers.” 

“The very men, Highness. Bold, smart, active : you couldn’t 
pick more suitable fellows if you hunted the army all over.” 

“Well, have your way then, general. How strong a force have 
you at your disposal?” 

“Eight hundred.” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 283 

“That ought to do. You’d better go at once and get them 
readj^. Where are they stationed?” 

“At Choisy.” 

“Very well. To Chois}’ I shall send the necessary papers as 
soon as executed. Farewell, major; God speed you.” 

Haller saluted and left* the room. 

“Quick, August, I have been commissioned to attend to this 
affair; The jmgers go with me.” 

“Hurrah! And I?” 

“Why, you belong to them, of course?” 

“Hurrah again! But now we won’t save horse flesh, will we?” 

“I reckon not.” 

They jumped on, and the horses soon discovered to their cost 
that their niders had little regard for the safety of the necks of 
either men or beasts. Never before had Schultze ridden so reck- 
lessly. When they reached Choisy, the horses were covered 
with foam and their own brows with perspiration, in spite of the 
cold, which was considerable. 

Two grooms took the steaming horses, wondering at such 
recklessness on the part of an officer noted for his consideration, 
Haller stepped into the guard-room and, a minute later, the sig- 
nal-horn sounded through the village. 

“Jaeger heraus!” 

The call was obeyed with alacrity, and, in less than ten min- 
utes, the battalion stood in rank and file. Haller convoked the 
captains. 

“Get your men ready to start at once on.a longer expedition. 
Let them provide themselves with three day’s rations and ammu- 
nition. I want them to re assemble in less than thirty minutes.” 

The order was promulgated and the men scattered to their 
respective quarters. They wondered at this sudden order; but 
their wonderment did not prevent them from obeying with that 
readiness and precision which has been one of the distinguishing 
features of this war. The time of grace was not nearly expended 
when every man stood in his place. Haller ordered them to form 
a hollow square: then, stepping into the center, he addressed 
them. 

“Boj’s,” he said, “it is the duty of a good soldier to obey his 


284 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


officer implicitly. I am sure that you would follow me blind- 
folded into the jaws of death. Yet I prefer to tell you the na- 
ture of the expedition on which we are about to start. It is not 
merely discipline I ask of you to-day: the task before you re- 
quires intelligence as well. We are on the point of moving 
against a band of guerillas, and, in order to conquer them, we 
must fight like them. By this I do not mean that we must blacken 
our fame with such misdeeds as those of which they have shown 
themselves guilty, (indeed the slightest violation of discipline 
will meet with punishment both certain and severe ;) but rather 
that you must learn to fall back upon your own resources, when- 
ever the nature of this conflict deprives you of the support of 
3 r our officers. Perhaps 3^ou have learned that a band of franc- 
tireurs has attacked a train with sick and wounded to wreak upon 
them the wrath which they are too cowardly to spend in open 
battle. Some of the passengers were killed, some wounded, and 
others again were carried into a captivity more intolerable b3 r 
far than death. They are 3'our comrades: men who have fought 
side by side with you. One of them even belonged to this batta- 
lion. You knew him; 3'ou loved him. I need hardly tell you 
that I allude to Robert Miller, as brave, as good, as kind a man 
and officer, as ever lived. He was on the train, and, as he can- 
not be found amongst the dead and w T ounded, we are compelled 
to number him with the missing . You know what it means to 
be missing under such circumstances. If he lives he looks to 
you for deliverance; if he is dead he looks to 3^ou for vengeance. 
Here comes the adjutant with our instructions. Let us never 
rest until we have fulfilled our mission and added a new laurel- 
leaf to the wreath which the jaegers have woven through this 
war !” 

Discipline prevented the outbreak of the enthusiasm which 
Haller’s words had kindled in the men; but their eyes sparkled, 
their hands clasped the musket more firmly, and they waited for 
the moment of departure with an impatience which showed clearly 
how eager they were for the fra3'. 

The papers delivered by the adjutant consisted of Haller’s 
commission, and an order of the quarter-master-general to the 
railroad-officials to furnish, at their earliest convenience, a train 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


285 


for one battalion of men. This order Haller at once dispatched 
by a mounted messenger to Lagny, the nearest railroad station, 
and then marched his troops to the same place on double quick. 
Lagny is over twenty miles from Choisy; but so well did the jae- 
gers keep up their march that they reached the depot in less than 
seven hours. The etappier was considerably embarrassed. 

“The accident at Changis has delayed the eastern trains,” he 
said to Haller. “We have absolutely nothing but a cattle-train, 
the cars of which haven’t even been cleaned.” 

“Oh, never mind,” said Haller, laughing. “We haven’t lately 
slept on roses, and can stand a little odzur de bceuf — can we not 
comrades? Where is your train, Sir.” 

“Over there, major.” 

“And how soon can you have a locomotive ready?” 

“In fifteen minutes.” 

“All right then. You get your engine out, while we attend to 
the cars. Volunteers for cleaning the cars, step forward!” 

The jaegers laughed and the whole battalion stepped forward in 
a solid body. 

“Form line! seize forks! attack train!” commanded Haller 
amidst universal merriment, and the men set to work with a good 
will. Pitchforks, shovels, sticks, oLl brooms : everything of that 
nature was in great demand. While some emptied the cars of 
the litter with which the cattle had been bedded, others carried 
water and cleansed the woodwork to the best of their ability. 
When the locomotive steamed up, the job was done, and the jae- 
gers climbed into the cars with that good-nature which is invari- 
ably coupled with true bravery. There were no benches for ei- 
ther the officers or privates; but all comforted themselves with 
the thought that the trip was but a short one, and improvised 
seats out of their knapsacks or anything else that would answer 
the purpose. When the train at last started, dusk began to set- 
tle upon the country. The weather was rather cold, and the open 
cars allowed a cutting wind to sweep through without a check. 
Still, the jaegers managed to keep up their spirits, partly by im- 
bibing the spirits of their flasks, partly by singing and making 
merry over their want of comfort, and the sweet odor of their 
quarters. Five miles from Lagny, the train passed over the 


286 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Marne : after traversing double that distance it reached Meaux. 
Here the conductor stopped long enough to ascertain whether 
they could proceed without danger of a collision. When he 
learned that the bridge at Changis was still in process of repair 
he again set the train in motion, until, almost an hour later, 
it stopped near the scene of the late disaster. The men w r ere or- 
dered to alight and remain stationary until the present condition 
of affairs could be ascertained. Haller accosted the engineer, 
under whose direction the reparation of the bridge was going on. 

“Has anything new occurred in connection with this affair ?” 
he inquired. 

“Not to my knowledge, Sir. However we have been so busy 
with repairing the bridge — ” 

“That you had no time for anything else. Is there no military 
on the spot?” 

“Yes, Sir. You’ll find a small guard at the other end of the 
bridge.” 

“Is it passable?” 

“For foot-passengers, yes.” 

Haller crossed the bridge and examined the officer in command 
of the small squad ; but he too was unable to give any informa- 
tion thut was calculated to throw light on the strength and posi- 
tion of the enemy. All he learned was that Changis la}^ a short 
distance from the bridge on the right bank of the Marne; that 
the village was deserted, and that the franc-tireurs had a hiding- 
place in the neighborhood which he had thus far been unable to 
discover. He added, however, that his force had been altogether 
too inadequate for the purpose, and that a thorough search might 
yield a very different result. 

With these communications Haller had to content himself. He 
knew very well that precipitation is even a greater fault in a mili- 
tary leader than tardiness, and seeing that he could do nothing 
decisive that night, he resolved to provide as comfortable quar- 
ters for his men as he was able to procure. He marched them 
up the left bank of the Marne, until they reached the bridge which 
crosses the river at that place and leads right into the village. 
A few advance columns were pushed through the several streets 
without meeting a single human being. The surroundings were 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


287 


examined as well, and when they also were found to be deserted, 
Halffir permitted his men to quarter themselves in the various 
houses as best they could, exhorting them, however, to obey with 
alacrity the first signal for rallying, and taking, of course, the 
necessary measures of precaution, such as posting sentinels, pro- 
viding for their relief, etc. 

It was about nine o’clock when he himself entered the house 
which Schultze had chpsen for their lodgings. A cheerful fire 
blazed in the grate, sending forth a genial heat which felt very 
pleasant after the long exposure to the cold of a blustering De- 
cember-day. The major found Schultze engaged in setting the 
table, helping himself freely to plates, dishes, cups and saucers 
in the cupboard; while the orderly knelt before the grate and pre- 
pared a mocca whose aroma filled the room with a pleasant fra- 
grance. 

Haller took off his helmet, unbuckled his sword and dropped 
with a sigh of relief into an arm-chair near the fire. 

“This looks comfortable,” he said to Schultze. “It comes dou- 
bly apropos after our cold trip in the cattle-train.” 

“ Yes indeed,” replied Schultze, “and in a few minutes you shall 
have a supper such as Moltke himself won’t get better in Versail- 
les .There is nothing wanting to our comfort now but certainty 
regarding the condition and whereabouts of friend Robert.” 

“That’s so,” replied Haller with a sigh. “However, we must 
hope for the best. To-morrow’s operations will surety throw 
light on this mysterious affair.” 

A few minutes later the meal stood on the table and was dis- 
patched with the keen relish peculiar to the bivouacking soldier. 
After that the two officers pulled a couple of easy-chairs to the 
fire and indulged in that state of semi-torpor which is apt to # 
seize upon the body after a cold and active day. The orderly 
had put a few bundles of straw into the empty bed- steads left by 
the runaway inhabitants, and the prospect of a good night’s rest 
added to their comfort. At last they rose and were on the point 
of throwing themselves upon the bed, when the guard stationed 
before the house knocked at the door and informed them that a 
Frenchman had arrived who insisted upon seeing the command- 
ing officer. Haller ordered him to be shown in, and the sentinel 


288 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


had hardly retired, when a young man rushed rather than walked 
into the room* He wore an old, faded uniform and the light cap 
of the French foot-soldier. His face was pale and haggard, and 
its pallor was doubly impressive oh account of the excitement to 
which the young man had evidently fallen a prey* 

“Herr Major,” he gasped, in broken German* “Ick komrnen 
zu sie sag — meiner Oncle — ” 

“Je parle francais,” Haller interrupted him. 

“Ah, merci, Monsieur, I thank you; Sir* I come to implore 
your aid in behalf of my uncle. He has fallen into the hands of 
the franc-tireurs who threaten to kill him and will no doubt carry 
out their menace if not compelled to give up their victim*” 

“The franc-tireurs kill a Frenchman! How do you account for 
that?” » 

“My uncle is a zealous adherent of the empire* These fellows, 
who are composed of the very scum of the populace, have been 
stirred up by communistic agents, and threaten with violence and 
death every person who differs from their views. But, major, I 
implore you do not tarry to examine me. Keep me as a hostage 
for my good behaviour, but send at once a force to release my 
uncle or the desperadoes will kill him before you get there.” 

Haller scanned the petitioner with a scrutinizing glance. 

“Very well, be it as you wish,” he said after a momentary pause. 
“But remember, if you deceive me, you pay the attempt with 
your life.’ ’ 

“I demand nothing else; but I repeat that haste is necessary to 
protect my uncle’s life.” 

Haller dispatched Schultze to alarm the jaegers and a minute 
later the signal-horn sounded through the village. 

“Where will we find the franc-tireurs?” the major examined 
the Frenchman. 

“About a mile from here on the left bank of the river.” 

“How many of them are there?” 

“That’s more than I can tell. I was wounded and captured in 
the battle of Woerth, and at last paroled after a tedious recon- 
noisance. I had to travel slowly on account of my enfeebled 
health, and only reached my home this afternoon. There I found 
my uncle and former guardian, whose own estates have mostly 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


293 


been destroyed. He was sorely distracted, partly on account of 
his losses, partly on account of the distressing way in which the 
war has scattered his family. His sister, his son, his niece, — 
they all had been taken from him, and, to complete his misery, 
the people of the neighborhood had begun to evince symptoms 
of a sudden and most unaccountable hostility. They had ut- 
tered savage threats and the few servants left in the establish- 
ment fed his apprehension by constant reports of intended attacks 
upon the castle. I for my part refused to credit these stories 
and attempted to reassure my uncle; but the events of the even- 
ing have plainly proved that his fears were too well founded.” 

“Then the castle was actually attacked ?” 

“It was, Sir, and in the most ferocious manner. The mob for- 
ced the door and at once seized my uncle. The servants fled. I 
had no arms; but grasping a cane attempted to defend my uncle 
as well as my feeble strength would permit. Of course, the at- 
tempt proved idle. I was disarmed and pushed aside in less time 
than it takes me to tell you.” 

“It is strange they should have spared you,” said Haller, sus- 
piciously. 

“It seems strange and I marvelled n^self at their unexpected 
leniency. I can account for it in no other way than that many of 
the rioters were former tenants of our family who still retain a 
shadow of the affection they once bore for the Delmonts.” 

“The wdio?” inquired Schultze, who had just re-entered the 
room. 

“The Delmonts, Sir.” \ 

“Are you a Delmont ?” 

“I am, Sir.” 

“Have you a sister?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“What is her name?” 

“Pauline.” 

“I thought so. You resemble her strongly.” 

‘‘Then you know my sister?” the young man eagerly inquired. 

“I think I do, Sir,” said Schultze, sarcastically. “I have had 
the pleasure of meeting her repeatedly.” Then turning to Hal- 
ler he said in German : 

19 


294 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“This chap will bear watching. His sister has more than once 
tried to take Miller’s life.” 

“His sister ! a woman !” exclaimed Haller. “ v If the sister is 
guilt}' of such atrocities, what must we expect of the brother t 
If I had known this sooner I wonld not have alarmed the men. 
Perhaps we had better send them to their quarters again.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Schultze. “It would 
hardly be fair to make the brother responsible for the failings of 
the sister. He may be all right, and, in such a case, prove a val- 
uable acquisition. I’d try him at all events. His life is at stake 
and under such circumstancs the greatest rogues are apt to be 
sincere.” 

The Frenchman had watched their conversation .with the most 
painful suspense. He had caught the meaning of a word now 
and then, but lost the connection. He knew, moreover, that they 
were debating the propriety of acceeding to his demands, and 
therefore wavered between the desire of urging them and the 
fear of creating their displeasure by an untimely interruption. 
He was still hesitating about the propriety of interfering when 
an officer entered the room and announced the jaegers ready for 
action. Haller, meanwhile, seemed to have decided on his course. 

“It is well,” he said, “I shall be with them in a minute.” Then 
turning to Delmont he added in French : 

“We are ready to follow you; but I repeat my warning. You 
will march between two guards with drawn revolvers. The 
slightest suspicion will send you to your last account.” 

“I accept your terms; but I assure you — ” 

“No more assurances, Monsieur,” Haller interrupted him. “Let 
your actions speak instead. Have the goodness to lead the way.” 

Delmont walked out, followed by Haller and Schultze who 
found the jaegers drawn up in the street. A few torches shed 
their lurid glare over the surroundings. Haller called two cor- 
porals by name. When they stood before him he said : 

“You see this man?” 

“Aye, aye, Sir.” 

“Very well, I charge you with his safe keeping. Here is a re- 
volver for each of you. You are to walk on each side of him 
and keep the strictest watch upon his actions. If he makes the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


295 


slightest suspicious movement, you are to shoot him on the spot. 
Recollect it is of you that I shall ask him dead or alive.” 

“Aye, aye, Sir.” 

“Take your position then. Eh Men, Monsieur , lead the way.” 

Delmont obe} T ed at once and so eagerly did he start on his er- 
rand that Haller had to check him. He led the troops across the 
bridge and then along the left bank, following a road sufficiently 
broad and level to allow an easy and compact marching of the 
men. On the left the road was bordered by the Marne; on the 
right wooded hills rose abruptly to the height of several hundred 
feet. The place was well calculated for an ambush and Haller 
watched the prisoner and the surroundings with an anxious eye. 
Schultze’s disclosures had aroused his suspicion, and so well did 
the nature of the region favor a surprise that the major would 
have given the order to retreat, if he had not feared to appear 
vacillating in the eyes of his officers. As it was he contented 
himself with the exercise of due caution, enjoining upon all the 
necessity of watching the hills with the greatest attention. 

The troops had marched a little more than a mile, when the 
leader stopped and pointed to a narrow road on the right which 
wound up the hill in the bottom of a ravine. 

“This is the road to the castle,” he said to Haller. 

“And how far is it to the castle?” 

“Nearly a mile. After passing this ravine, you reach a wooded 
plateau on which you can manoeuvre your men without trouble. 
I see the moon is on the point of rising, and, with its assistance, 
you will find no difficulty in surrounding the castle and capturing 
the whole rabble.” 

“You are severe on } r our countrymen.” 

“I have no sympathy with robbers and murderers.” 

“True they deserve none* Are you ready to proceed?” 

Instead of an answer Delmont started for the ravine. It was a 
dark and narrow place, and a small party lying in ambush could 
have done fearful execution amongst the invaders. Nobody, how- 
ever attempted to check their progress, and, ten minutes later, 
they reached the plateau which Delmont had mentioned. Haller 
breathed more freely; at the same time his coffidence in their 
leader increased, and he turned to him for further advice. Del- 


296 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


mont was on the point of giving it, when all at once a bright 
light shining through the trees startled and checked him. 

“The castle is on fire !” he exclaimed. “For heaven’s sake, 
hurry the men forward. No doubt they are torturing my poor 
uncle to death!” 

“Just one more moment,” said Haller. “Is there any wall 
around the castle?” 

'“Only a low stone-enclosure, over which your men can jump 
without difficulty.” 

“Are there no other obstacles in the road?” 

“None whatever. The castle lies in the midst of an open 
park.” 

“Then I shall take my measures accordingly. Forward.” 

Again the troops advanced with rapid steps, until they reached 
the enclosure above mentioned. There they received the order 
to deploy to the right and left, until they met on the opposite 
side. This done the word “advance!” was rapidly but stealthily 
passed along the line, and, a moment later, they stood within the 
wall. The description of Delmont proved correct in every par- 
ticular. No further obstacle impeded their progress, and soon 
they reached the inner square which tormed the court-yard of 
the castle. The mansion itself formed one -side of this square, 
while the barns and stables formed two more. The fourth side 
was enclosed b}^ a substantial picket-fence, which had evidently 
been erected for the purpose of guarding the park against the 
encroachment of the various animals of the court. In the cen- 
ter of this fence was a broad gate which stood open. Through 
it and the open spaces of the picket-fence the jaegers gazed upon 
a scene which was both strange and awful. The square con- 
tained perhaps two acres of ground. In its center a huge fire 
sent its lurid flames into the air, fed by straw, brush, boards, 
wagon-beds, and other combustible materials which a farm-yard 
is apt to furnish. Around this fire was a motley crowd of several 
hundred persons, in which both sexes and all ages were repre- 
sented. The men predominated ; but what the women and chil- 
dren lacked in numbers, they fully made up in noise and bustle. 
The whole crowd acted in the strangest manner. While some 
contented themselves with watching the fire with absorbing in- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


297 


terest, others j^elled and shouted, and ran around it with every 
indication of savage delight. A third party displayed the great- 
est zeal in dragging to the fire fuel of every description. On the 
whole the scene had an aspect more weird, supernatural, and 
spectre-like, than the jaegers had ever witnessed in their life* 
It reminded them strongly of their native legends in which de- 
mons and their associates dance in Walpurgis-night on the Blocks - 
berg and other mountain-tops. But while they gaze spell-bound 
upon the strange scene, the actors themselves seemed altogether 
too much infatuated with their savage sport to notice the inva- 
ders. They were permitted to occupy the castle, the barns and 
stables, in short all the avenues to the court without molestation, 
and only when Haller finally caused the trumpeter to announce 
their presence by one shrill blast of the bugle, the revellers 
turned their attention to the enclosure to learn the cause. Never 
before, perhaps, did one single sound produce such a radical 
change. The mad shouts ceased instantly, as if drowned by an 
invisible flood; the frantic movements stopped and two hundred 
figures stood as if transfixed. It was a grand, a horrible tableaux, 
such as no audience has ever seen performed on the stage. Short 
as it was, it did not fail to leave an indelible impression on the 
minds of the spectators. The spell, however, lasted only a sec- 
ond. It ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and, a moment 
later, the court again resounded with the shrieks of two hundred 
human beings. These shrieks, however, were no longer prompted 
by feelings of fierce and savage revenge : they originated from a 
sensation of undefined awe and terror. This sudden signal, what 
could it signify? The crowd rushed hither and thither, to ascer- 
tain the cause. Like a breaker this motley mass floated against 
the gates of the enclosure, the avenues to the mansion and out- 
houses, to bounce back at the sight of the glistening bayonets 
which everywhere stopped its progress as unexpectedly as effec- 
tually. The fences, the castle, the stables, were thus in turn ap- 
proached. and, in less than fifteen minutes, the rioters knew that 
they had fallen into a trap from which nothing short of death 
could procure deliverance. This conviction having once taken 
‘root in their minds, their fear and consternation chang3d into 
despair. Despair, however, shares with true courage the indiffer- 


298 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


ence to danger. It plunges recklessly into the fray, because it 
has lost the hope of avoiding the impending peril. The same 
crowd which, a minute ago, had anxiously sought for an outlet, 
now turned with gnashing teeth, and hurled defiance into the 
face of a foe against whom resistance was known to be impos- 
sible. The men seized their rifles and opened a desultory fire 
upon the assailants, while the women and children also displayed 
a truly startling recklessness. They seized fire-brands and hurled 
them over the fence, and into the doors and other apertures of 
the mansion and stables, venturing so near that the jsegers could 
have shot every one of them if that had been their desire. But 
it is repugnant to brave men to fire upon women and children, 
and they bore the annoyance without retaliation, until the law of 
self-preservation finally compelled them to set aside all tender re- 
gards. The fire-brands, thus hurled into their midst, did not 
only enable the franc-tireurs to aim with greater accuracy, but 
the straw and hay in the stables was in constant danger of catch- 
ing fire, thus jeopardizing the success of the entire enterprise. 
Thus far Haller had confined his attempts of gaining a bloodless 
victory by securing an unconditional surrender. The franc-tire- 
urs, however, fired upon the white flag and showed such bitter 
and unprovoked hostility, that Haller could not help gaining the 
conviction that a surrender was out of the question. Was this 
conduct of the rioters dictated by their previous actions? Had 
they committed deeds which made leniency on the part of their 
captors impossible? We shall see. 

Reluctantly Haller gave the command to fire. The jaegers were 
exhorted to spare the women and children to the best of their 
ability ; but who can guide bullets always in accordance with his 
wishes? They began to take effect in the multitude without 
much regard for sex or age, and the sight, fearful enough in the 
beginning, now became so horrible that the mind sickens at the 
very thought of it. The fire in the center of the court continued 
to blaze, and so distinctly did the dark figures stand out against 
the brilliant back ground, that to miss was almost impossible. 
Soon many mangled forms lay scattered in every direction, and 
heart-rending cries of anguish rose so profusely into the night- 
air, that nothing but the rigid laws of discipline and a growing 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


299 


excitement in consequence of their own losses enabled the jaegers 
to continue the assault. 

The combat lasted nearly half- an -hour. At the expiration of 
that time the court was empty. The two hundred beings which 
had but so latelj’ occupied and enlivened it, were either dead or 
prisoners. The majority had perished in the struggle. Com- 
paratively few only had been saved. These, too, maddened by 
the bloody struggle, rushed into the German lines, with the in- 
tention of inflicting a death-stroke while receiving one. They 
had, however, overtaxed their strength and been disarmed. When 
the fight at last was over, and Haller proceeded to the place where 
the prisoners were guarded, he counted in the neighborhood of 
fifty. Three dead to one prisoner! Haller shuddered at the 
thought, while at the same time a feeling of sorrow pervaded 
his breast. True his own losses were light in comparison with 
those of the bush-whackers; but nevertheless the jaegers had com- 
rades to mourn, comrades whose death they felt more keenly, be- 
cause they had fallen in a night-attack, unaccompanied with the 
pageant and halo of military glory which often takes the sting- 
out of the death-wound of the soldier. 

As some of the jaegers snatched up a fire-brand, and let its light 
fall upon the prisoners, the difference in sex as well as age again 
forced itself into notice. The women and children, however, 
were more largely represented, showing after all that the men 
had obeyed Haller’s humane instructions even in the heat of bat- 
tle. They were a fearful set to look upon, men, women, children. 
While in some defeat had produced a gloomy resignation, others 
continued to gaze upon their conquerors with glances in which 
fury and hatred rivalled for the mastery. Nor did their feelings 
confine themselves to looks alone ; they broke out into numerous 
invectives which exhausted in lowness and bitterne&s the vocab- 
ulary of language. 

Haller examined them a few minutes in silence. He thought 
he noticed how a number of the captives crowded around the 
figure of a man who surpassed the others as much in height as 
in composure. He looked upon the jaegers with comparative 
calmness, and Haller, thinking him a man of importance among 
his fellows, stepped up to him. 


300 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“I come to question you on a few points” he said. “Recollect, 
that your fate and that of your companions depend upon your 
answers.” 

The scolds amongst the crowd ceased their abuse at the firs*t 
sound of Haller’s voice. So, wheh he had finished speaking, an 
impressive stillness pervaded the assembly. The person addres- 
sed abstained from replying, and so stern and rigid were his fea- 
tures that no one could discern whether his silence originated 
from contempt or reserve. 

“Tell me first who you are,” commanded Haller. 

Again the other disdained to reply. 

“Stubborn, are you? Oh well, my friend, we shall not coax 
you. We’ll elicit the truth without your aid, I warrant } 7 ou. 
Monsieur Delmont, do you happen to know this person?” 

“Yes, Sir,” replied the young man who had witnessed the en- 
tire fight at Haller’s side. “This man is one of our former ten- 
ants. His name is Malon, and he always bore a bad character* 
He led the rioters this evening when they attacked the castle.” 

“In that case he ought to be able to inform us of your uncle’s 
whereabouts. That is after all the main point. If he can assure 
us of his safety, I may treat him and his associates with greater 
leniency than they deserve. Come, man, let us know the place 
where you hid this gentleman, the uncle of Mr. Delmont, I 
mean.” 

The expression of the culprit’s face became so dogged, that 
Haller despaired of receiving from him the desired information. 
He was on the point of questioning the other prisoners, when an 
exclamation emanating from Delmont turned his attention in 
that direction. The young man was considerably excited. His. 
eyes beamed and he looked with eager expectation into the face 
of an aged man, whose hand he shook with much warmth and af- 
fection. 

“David! Old David! Where do you come from? I thought 
you far away by this time.” 

“I would have gone if I had had a chance, .to tell the honest 
truth. I like Mr. Dupre well enough, you know it: but I like 
myself a little better, and when these roughs came this afternoon 
I thought it high time to get my walking-papers out. But the 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


301 


rioters thought differently, and guarded all the avenues so closely 
that I had no other choice but a retreat up stairs. They chased 
me from story to story, until I finally succeeded in hiding in a 
garret-room whose only window opens on the court-yard. It 
had grown dark meanwhile, so that I could not see much; but 
by-and-by they dragged straw and hay into the yard to fire it 
and then I saw a spectacle — merciful heavens! I feel sick and 
faint when I think of it.” 

“So you saw something dreadful?” urged Delmont. “Come, 
David, tell us what you saw.” 

“Well, I suppose it has to be. I must betray this dreadful se- 
cret, if it were only to bring these monsters: to an account. As 
I told you before, they lit a fire and began to dance around it in 
the queerest fashion. A set of demons couldn’t have done it in 
a more approved style. All at once some more of them made 
their appearance, dragging Mr. Dupre to the fire. Then the whole 
mob began to shout worse than ever, acting like so many mad- 
men, and making grimaces as if they meant to push him into the 
flames. Poor Mr. Dupre screamed dreadfully, and called for 
help. They surely cannot mean it, thought I, but I tell you they 
did mean it. Before the poor fellow knew it, they tied him hand 
and foot, and flung him into the very midst of the fire!” 

A cry of horror burst from the lips of all who heard the re- 
cital of this fearful story, 

“It cannot be! You must have dreamt, old man,” suggested 
Haller. 

“Indeed, I wish I had dreamt,” protested the servant. “But I 
can assure you that I was as wide awake then as I am now. I 
can swear to the deed and the persons who committed it.” 

“And are they present?” 

“They are, Sir, and so is their leader. There is the man who 
roused their brutal passion, and bid them throw an innocent old 
man into the flames !” 

He pointed to the man whom Haller had vainly interrogated. 

The jaegers saw the gesture, and, although they did not under- 
stand the words, the atrocious deed and its perpetrator soon be- 
came known through the ranks. Then their indignation burst 


302 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


forth in full force, and nothing but their excellent discipline 
saved Monsieur Malon from a retribution as swift as dreadful. 

“Take the prisoners into the castle and guard them well,” said 
Haller, to quiet the excitement of his men. “To-morrow morn- 
ing we shall form a court-martial, and sit in judgment over these 
fiends in human form. Now we have other duties of even greater 
importance to perform. Miller’s fate is still a riddle which we 
must endeavor to solve bofore w6 do anything else.” 

His orders were fulfilled, and in the spacious rooms of the 
castle the troops took a short rest. It was late ; but so much 
had the recent events excited officers and privates that nobod} r 
thought of sleep. The former held a council in Haller’s room. 
Delmont and David were present. The former was no longer 
suspected and the latter so well qualified, in consequence of his 
experience and familiarity with the neighborhood, to give in- 
formation, that his presence had been especially demanded. He 
now followed with great attention the deliberations which, for 
his benefit, were conducted in the French language. When Hal- 
ler finally asked him whether he could give further revelations 
concerning the whereabouts of the franc-tireurs, he gazed around 
with an anxious mien, and timidly inquire#: 

“Are Messieurs les Allemands to remain here any length of 
time? It is dangerous to make these disclosures.” 

“Any more so than your disclosure of this murder?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Many of our franc-tireurs would loathe 
such infamies. To betray their hiding-places would be a very 
risky thing.” 

“Have no fear, Sir. We shall be very careful not to reveal the 
source of our information.” 

“Well, in that case, I am willing to tell you what I know. I 
do not like to go myself, but I can give my young master here 
the necessary directions. Monsieur Victor, do you recollect the 
old quarry, half a mile up stream?” 

“I do, David. I used to make it the scene of my boyish sports. 
What about it?” 

“Well, Monsieur Victor, that very quarry contains a secret 
into which but few persons are initiated. Did you ever know 
that it hides the entrance to a large subterranean cave?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


303 


“Nothing definite, David; although I recollect there was a story 
in vogue to that effect. We boys used to hunt for it in fun: but 
when I grew older without finding the slightest clue, I put it 
down as one of the many legends of the neighborhood.” 

“It is in existence, nevertheless. This man, Malon, I, and 
about half-a-dozen more, were the only persons initiated in the 
secret. We guarded it for various purposes, which were not al- 
ways honorable, to confess the truth. Many a sheep or heifer 
which disappeared from the farm, found its way into the cave, 
sometimes to be sold and converted into needful cash ; sometimes 
to furnish a roast for one of the wild and tempting revels which 
we were wont to hold from time to time in the bowels of the earth/’ 

“And in this cave you suspect the franc-tireurs to hold their 
meetings?” 

“I do, Sir. I do not know for sure; but, as you call it, I sus- 
pect it. Malon is one of the principal leaders of the organiza- 
tion, and, if he has anything to Ijide, you may depend upon it 
that the cave of the quarry is the place.” 

“But how will we find the spot, David ?” 

“It is easily found. In fact the very simplicity of the secret 
is its principal protection. You recollect the oak-tree on the 
left of the entrance?” 

“I do, David.” 

“Very well. This oak is hollow. Its foot is densely covered 
with hazel-bushes, which we always took care to replant when 
necessary. If you approach the tree from the south, and bend 
the bushes aside, you discover a hole into which you enter. The 
tree stands on a lime stone rock, through which an aperture of 
moderate size leads into the cave. It is of easy access; but a 
party posted in the cave has such advantages over any assailants 
from without, that I would advise you to use stratagem rather 
than force.” 

“And yonr advise is reasonable, old man,” said Haller. “We 
shall not fail to act on it. Monsieur Delmont, do you feel strong 
enough to serve once more as guide?” 

“Certainly, Major. This dreadful end of my poor uncle has 
filled me with a burning thirst for vengeance which must be 
quenched before I can enjoy tranquility again.” 


304 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


With these words he rose and led the way from the castle. One 
hundred men were left as a guard over the prisoners, and the re- 
maining seven hundred. soon marched down the narrow ravine, 
which they had ascended a couple of hours ago. When they ap- 
proached the river, they turned to the right and continued their 
march, until Delmont declared that they had reached the vicinity 
of the quarry in question. The ground was not very rough just 
there, and, although the hanks of the quarry itself rose tolerably 
steep and high, the entrance to the cave was easy of access. 
When the necessary survey was completed, the troops were pla- 
ced under cover in such a way as to surround and entirely com- 
mand the outlet. This accomplished they patiently awaited the 
further development of events. 




CHAPTER XXY. 

Robert had fallen into a doze, when the railroad-car in which 
he had quartered himself for his journey to Kaiserslautern, sud- 
denly gave' a powerful bounce, and made a plunge into some abyss 
below which appeared bottomless to the bewildered senses of our 
friend. All at once, however, this descent terminated in a plunge 
and splash, which proved that the train had either broken through 
a bridge, or fallen from an embankment into a river. It certainly 
was water of some kind, for an icy flood at once penetrated 
through the apertures of the car, and awakened Robert to the 
necessity of making a quick attempt to extricate himself from 
his dangerous position. Fortunately he had made the risky des- 
cent without detriment to his broken arm or injury to his other 
limbs. The lamp had been extinguished and impenetrable dark- 
ness reigned in the car. Nevertheless Robert succeeded in gain, 
ing his feet; but the position of the floor was so oblique that he 
had to hold on to the seats in order to keep from slipping. Us- 
ing his feet and his sound arm as best he could, he finally 
reached the platform at the upper end of the car. There he 
paused to look around. The night was star-lit, and therefore suf- 
ficient^ bright to recognize the dim outlines of the surrounding 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


305 


objects. Robert discovered that the wrecked train lay indeed 
across the bed of a river. The fragments of the bridge loomed 
up above his head, and the banks were dimly visible. The car 
in which he had travelled lay with the rear end — the end on which 
he stood — on another car, and the latter again touched the shore. 
The rear end was immersed ; but, as the car on which lie stood 
partly over-lapped it, he saw that he would find no difficulty in 
reaching the shore. Yet he hesitated, for confused sounds of 
rather a suspicious nature penetrated from the bank into his ears. 
Some of them evidently emanated from German lipS; but French 
words, mixed with copious curses, predominated, and convinced 
Robert that the disaster had been planned, and that his first step 
on shore would also be the first step into captivity. He knew, 
more- over, that there were no regular French troops in the Ger- 
man rear, and that these men must belong to the ill-famed franc- 
tireurs. He had heard numerous authentic stories of wanton 
cruelties exercised bj' them against helpless prisoners, and felt 
pretty sure that thej r would make no exception in his favor. But 
then, what could he do? To remain on the wreck would hardly 
improve his chances. If the guerillas did not find him during 
the night, they would surely discover him in the morning. Then 
his surrender would be demanded and easily enforced. An at- 
tempt, therefore, of reaching the shore could not make matters 
worse,' but it might possibly improve- them. Perhaps he might 
avoid capture in the darkness. His uniform would not be recog- 
nized, and his perfect French might assist him in slipping through 
the lines of the franc-tireurs. 

In accordance with these considerations, he set to work with- 
out delay. The task in itself was easy enough. A step of ordi- 
nal length landed him safely on the dry portion of the last car, 
and, once there, he found no difficulty in reaching the shore. 
Tne bank itself was rather steep, but, with the assistance of a 
few bushes, Robert soon gained the top. There he made a hasty 
survey of the neighborhood. The ground was tolerably level, 
but free from any shrubbery by means of which he might have 
made his escape. To make matters worse, a fir® began at that 
moment to send forth its blaze, and light up the ground to a con- 
siderable distance. By means of it Robert saw that the French 


306 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


numbered several hundred men, and that they had already cap- 
tured the greater portion of the surviving passengers. But the 
same light which enabled him to make these observations, favored 
his enemies. A shout betrayed to him that he had been discovered, 
and, a moment afterwards, he was surrounded. His sword was 
rudely snatched from his side, and his pockets were searched 
with more dispatch than consideration. His wounded arm suf- 
fered severely during this operation, and Robert therefore at- 
tempted to appeal to their sympathy by stating his condition, 
and his readiness to deliver his arms as well as his valuables. This 
induced them to desist a moment in order to receive his watch 
and purse, as well as a revolver which he carried in his breast- 
pocket; but when they had disarmed and plundered him, they 
pushed him towards the other prisoners with a rudeness that 
showed plainly how little their momentary moderation had sprung 
from motives of compassion. The other prisoners stood in the 
immediate neighborhood of the fire whose brightness enabled 
Robert to recognize their faces, as well as those of the guerillas. 
The latter seemed to be engaged in an animated discussion. Half- 
a dozen of their leaders bent their heads together, and evidently 
argued the pros and contras of some proposed measure. Robert 
looked at them with the curiosity of a man who is anxious to 
study the features of those on whose mood his destiny depends. 
Suddenly, however, his gaze becomes more intense. Has he seen 
right? Is that really the face of the man who has sought his 
death with the perseverance and unerring scent of the blood- 
hound? He shades his face, partly to see more sharply, partly 
to conceal his own features. This second gaze decides the ques- 
tion. One of the leaders, apparently the leading spirit is Alci- 
biades Dupre. At present he is too busily engaged to notice the 
captive ; but when the doubtful point has been decided : what 
then? The moment of recognition will surely be the moment of 
Robert’s execution. He trembles at this thought. His wound, 
the recent accident, his capture, his defenselessness — all these 
things have contributed to unnerve him in a measure. At that 
moment he fears his relentless foe; he shrinks from him and 
thinks of means to escape detection. Drawing his cap deeply 
over his face, he steps back and mingles with the other prisoners, 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON, 


307 


hoping that in the crowd his individuality will escape detection- 
But while he strives to avoid the gaze of his foe, his own eye is 
invariably fixed on the other’s face. Now the deliberation is 
over and the crisis on hand. But Dupre does not approach the 
prisoners. He heads the franc-tireurs, and marches the greater 
portion off into the gloom of night. Robert draws a breath of 
relief. For the present the dreaded denouement has been avoided. 
True, the storm-cloud may again gather and break over his de- 
voted head; but the momentary respite suffices to drive off his 
dejection. His pulse beats more quietly ; his nerves regain their 
tone, and when the franc-tireurs summoned their prisoners, with 
word and blow, to march to an unknown prison and a doubtful 
destiny, Robert not only obeyed with alacrity, but, by his cheer- 
ful voice and example, exhorted his comrades to fortitude and 
endurance. 

The road leads past the demolished bridge and then follows the 
river which borders it on the left, while, on the right, steep 
wooded hills rise to the height of several hundred feet. After 
marching two miles or more, the guerillas stop and send a few 
skirmishers into the bushes. Ten minutes later they return and 
report favorably, for the prisoners are placed in single file and 
then marched into the woods. 

It was a rough road to travel. The trees and bushes, though 
leafless, caught the feeble starlight, leaving underneath a darkness 
almost tangible. More than once Robert stumbled; more than 
once he ran against the trunks of trees, hurting his arm so badly 
that he had to bite his teeth to suppress a cry of pain. Fortun- 
ately the way was short. Five minutes after entering the woods 
the franc tireurs stopped and bid the foremost prisoner enter a 
hollow tree, from which a feeble light stole into the night. The 
man hesitated; but a vigorous thrust with the butt of a rifle soon 
terminated his indecision. He entered and disappeared, followed 
by his comrades who all vanished in the bowels of the earth. 
Robert was one of the first. He saw at once that a subterranean 
space, either an artificial vault or a natural lime-stone cavern, so 
common in the region, was to become their prison, and a keen 
curiosity for a while drove all other thoughts and feelings from 
his mind. 


308 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


The entrance fell obliquely at the angle of about forty-five 
degrees. The ceiling was so low that Robert had to stoop in 
order to avoid a contact with the overhanging rocks. Some 
twenty rough steps mediated the descent to the bottom of the 
cave which bore the character peculiar to the cavities of lime- 
stone formations. It widened and narrowed, rose and fell, and 
showed a great variety of the stalactytes which, more or less, 
abound in all such caverns. 

The prisoners were conducted through several chambers, un- 
til at last they reached one of unusually large proportions. Here 
their captors deserted them without any explanation whatever. 
They took with them the lanterns by means of which they had 
effected their entrance and the prisoners therefore found them- 
selves in the most complete darkness. On the surface of the 
earth even the darkest night retains a trace of light by means 
of which the eye exercises its function. Here it was absolutely 
impossible to see one’s hand before one’s face. Darkness is 
always depressing — in captivity it is doubly so. Now, if we 
take into consideration that this captivity was not an ordinary 
one; that many of the poor fellows suffered with wounds from 
the battle-field or from the recent disaster, we can imagine that 
their mind was more than ordinarily oppressed, Robert heard 
them sigh ; he noticed that they abstained from those dry jokes 
with which the German soldier likes to lighten the burden of his 
campaigns, and, forgetting his own pain, he set to work to cheer 
their spirits. Knowing that actions always go farther than words, 
he drew from his vest-pocket a match, and, by means of it, lit a 
newspaper which he folded compactly to prolong its burning. 

“So, boys,” he said to the others, “here we have at least a lit- 
tle light upon our situation. Look around, some of you, and 
sep whether you cannot find some wood to start a fire. There’s 
a board : aha! I knew we could improve upon our condition, if 
we only set our wits to working. Cut it up into splinters, some 
of you : who has a knife?” 

Robert’s face lengthened, when he discovered that everything 
in the shape of a knife had been removed from the men at the 
time of capture. 


V 









f 


N. 






The Bombardment of Bitsch. 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 309 

“Break it up with your feet,” he continued; “but quick, for 
this paper won’t last much longer.” 

The men acted on the hint, and really succeeded in breaking 
the pine board into fragments. These fragments, however, were 
damp in consequence of the humid atmosphere of the cave, and 
obstinately refused to ignite. The paper was rapidly approach- 
ing its end, and they would have been obliged to renounce their 
experiments, if some of the men had not incidentally discovered 
pieces of paper in their pockets. These in turn were ignited ; 
but the wood remained obstinate, showing at best a dull, sickly 
flame which insisted upon expiring, in spite of the most enduring 
attempts to blow it into life and vigor. 

“It won’t do,” said Robert, finally, “so don’t let us waste this 
precious material uselessly. If we cannot start a fire b}’’ means 
of it, it may light us at least in our attempt of getting as good 
a berth for the night, as the damp ground of this cave can furnish. 
Look out for yourselves, lads : I am going to make the round. 
To-morrow I shall petition our jailors to grant us at least the use 
of alantern.” 

These words were spoken with a ga}^ety which Robert was far 
from feeling. Still, they had a salutory effect. Tired by the ex- 
ertions of the day, the prisoners all busied themselves in hunt- 
ing a place which offered a prospect, however slim, of catching 
a few hours of the much needed slumber. The scarcity of the 
paper, as well as the total absence of any bedding material, quick- 
ened their choice, and five minutes had hardly elapsed since the 
utterance of Robert’s summons, when all the men had crept into 
some nook or corner, closely wrapped in the mantles which the 
franc- tireurs had been humane enough to leave them. 

“All ready?” inquired Robert. “If so, I shall blow out the 
light. We must be saving with the precious material, for we 
don’t know for what purpose we may yet need it. Good-night, 
comrades, and don’t you get up before day-light.” 

This little joke called forth a laugh; but, no sooner had it re- 
ceded, when the heavy breathing of the men indicated the rapid 
approach of slumber. Now and then a detached word still broke 
the stillness of the cavern; but these signs of life too became 
scarce and scarcer, until at last everything was silent. 

All slept save Robert. He also would gladL} r have sought ob- 
livion; but the pain originating from his wound on the one hand, 
and from the turbulent thoughts of his excited brain on the 
other, kept him awake against his will. He thought of his youth, 
his borne, his parents. The panorama of his life passed before 
his mental eye. He gazed upon the sports of bis boyhood; the 
aspirations and extravagances of his youth; the labors and hard- 
ships of his riper years. Through all these visions, however, 
shone a beautiful, a radiant face, and so vividly did the image of 
20 


310 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


Pauline Delmont rise before his eyes, that he imagined he saw in 
reality the beloved form, and involuntarily raised his arm to draw 
her into his embrace. This motion at once broke the spell. Hi& 
arm fell wearily to liis side, and a deep sigh escaped his bosom. 
It was answered from the depth of the cave. Robert started* 
Was it the echo that had responded to the sound? If so, the 
phenomenon would surely re-occur after a repetition of the sound* 
Robert sighed again; but no response rewarded his trouble. He 
cried: “Qui vive?”; but, in spite of his keen attention, nothing 
but the snore of a few sleepers struck his eaiv Then he persua- 
ded himself that he had been the victim of an illusion, and tried 
harder than ever to fall asleep; but, all at once, the sigh from tho 
depth of the cave struck his ear with increased force. At the 
same time he heard a shuffling noise, as if loose slippers were 
dragged across a sandy floor. 

What in the world could it be? His companions were all asleep* 
The franc-tire urs had surely left the cave. There might be an- 
other secret entrance; but even then the franc-tireurs would hardly 
have had recourse to such underhand measures. 

If RoberUhad been superstitious, he might have attributed the 
singular phenomenon to the influence of spirits. This, however* 
was not the case. He felt at once convinced that some corpo- 
real agency lay at the bottom of the affair. With this conviction 
he coupled the firm resolution of fathoming the mystery. He 
rose, lit the remnant of the paper, and advanced^ slowly and 
cautiously towards the spot from which the shuffling footsteps 
approached. 

In spite of his courage Robert felt slightly nervous. This is 
natural. Even though a riper age teaches us to disbelieve the le- 
gends of our childhood, we never totally free ourselves from their 
.influence. His fancy conjured up figures which his reason re- 
fused to acknowledge, but which nevertheless insisted upon peo- 
pling the cave. 

The vault narrowed in the direction in which Robert advanced* 
and ended in a tunnel of such dwarfish dimensions that only one 
man at a time was capable of effecting a passage. But, though 
narrow, this tunnel seemed possessed of acoustic properties truly 
astonishing. The mysterious walker had not yet reached the end 
of the passage, and still the moans, the peculiar shuffling steps,, 
struck Robert's ear with strange distinctness. More than once 
he felt tempted to repeat his “Qui vive?”; but the fear of appear- 
ing ridiculous in his own estimation prevented him from yield- 
ing to the inclination. 

The noise sounded nearer and nearer, and yet the originator 
did not present itself. Robert grew impatient, and w r as on the 
point of entering the passage, when, all at once, the faint light 
of the burning paper revealed the dim outlines of a human figure* 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


311 


It was a man clad in a suit of black, with which a face of deadly 
pallor formed a striking contrast. The head was bare, and the 
hair hung in dishevelled masses around the temples and over the 
forehead. The man walked with the uncertain step of the drunk- 
ard, and felt with both hands for the side-walls of the passage, 
perhaps to guide his steps, perhaps to support his feeble strength* 

When the light first struck his eyes, he rapidly shaded them 
with his hands, a certain proof that he had been some length of 
time in the cave, else the feeble rays would not have offended his 
vision. Thus guarded, his eyes betra} T ed to him the presence of 
a fellow-being. He hailed this discovery with a joyous “all!” 
and made an attempt to quicken his steps; but so reduced was his 
strength that he needed the assistance of his hands. Withdraw- 
ing them from his eyes, he again revealed his pale, emaciated face. 
Robert had meanwhile got so near that he obtained a close and 
distinct view of the other’s features. Prompted by both curiosity 
and compassion, he gazed more sharply, and 

What is this? What sudden change has overcome the young 
man? He stands like one petrified. Then a violent tremor shakes 
his body. The paper falls from his trembling hand, and. from his 
lips escape two words : 

“Barmherziger Hirnmel!” 

That is all. The light at his feet has died out, and impenetra- 
ble darkness envelops the two figures. Robert is unable to move; 
but the other has heard the words, and they seem to have kind- 
led new hope in his bosom, for he exclaims in the same language: 

•‘Oh! that is German! You are a German, are you not? You 
have come to save a poof, lost man whom these monsters had 
left to the awful death of starvation. Where are you? Oh! as 
you hope for final mercy from your God , do not desert me ! Come 
to me! Let me touch, let me grasp you! Let me lean upon the 
arm of a fellow-being, a countryman, after this long and dread- 
ful isolation!” 

These words brought life into the paralyzed form of our friend. 
Once in motion, he advanced with a recklessness that threatened 
to bring his body every moment into contact with the projecting 
rocks. When he first touched the form of the other, his hand 
shook, as if he had touched a powerful galvanic battery; but, con- 
quering his emotion, he laid his sound arm around the waist of 
the sufferer, and said with a low and trembling voice : 

“Lean on me, Sir. Let me conduct you forward to the larger 
vault. Put your hand against the ledge, for one of my arms is 
disabled.” 

The other obej^ed his injunctions, and, a moment later, they 
stood within the larger room, Gladly Robert would have lit an- 
other paper; but the supply had become exhausted. He there- 
fore had to grope his way to his former quarters, leading the 


312 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


new-comer as before. After several failures he at last succeeded 
in reaching the nook which he had occupied. 

“So, my dear Sir/' he said with tender solicitude* “Sit down 
upon this ledge, and rest yourself. Fortunately the free-booters 
have left my provisions untouched* I have both food and drink 
for you. Here;dake a good sip from this flask.” 

The other obeyed mechanically, and with the fiery brandy new 
life began to stream through his veins. 

“Oh, how that strengthens and quickens!” he said. “I feel 
like one newly born.” 

“I am glad to hear it. But now you must eat as well, though 
sparingly at first* How long have you been imprisoned here?” 

“How could I tell ? Does not uninterrupted darkness reign 
supreme here?” 

“But you know the date of your imprisonment?” 

“Oh yes; it was the first of December.” 

“And this is the night of the third. Your captors surely have 
not compelled you to fast 30 long?” 

“They handed me a slice of bread the first day — that is all.” 

“And no water?” 

“I have been compelled to quench my thirst with the moisture 
of the walls.” 

Robert uttered a sound, half groan, half imprecation* 

“The monsters !” he exclaimed with compressed teeth. “Here, 
eat this sandwich, but slowly at first* Your stomach has been 
weakened by this protracted fast, and must not be overburdened 
now* Else your life might pay the penalty/’ 

The other received the food, and followed Robert’s injunctions 
with the docility of a child. When he had eaten his alio war ce, 
Robert inquired: 

“May I ask, how you fell into the hands of the bushwhackers? 
You do not seem to belong to the army?” 

“I do not, Sir* I am a lawyer by profession. My sovereign 
had entrusted me with the administration of the Palatinate, and 
I was executing the functions of my office, when, all at once, I 
received a dispatch from the Bavarian plenipotentiary at Ver- 
sailles, summoning me tocome there and assist in certain nego- 
tiations, now pending. Of course, I obeyed with alacrity, and 
traveled by rail as far as Tierry. At that place I was informed 
that there was a break in the road which would stop the regular 
trains for a whole day. This was unwelcome news, for I had 
been enjoined to use the utmost speed, and so, when I was offered 
a chaise which would take me to the next station beyond the 
break, I gladly seized the opportunity. The driver was a villain- 
ous looking individual, and I started with serious misgivings as 
to the safety of the step I had taken. My forebodings were more 
than realized. Perhaps the coachman led me into a trap ; perhaps 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


313 


the franc-tireurs surprised both him and me: however this may 
be, I fell into the hands of a set of men who have forsworn mercy 
and compassion, provided they ever knew these feelings. They 
took me to this cavern, and left me in this department. A slice 
of bread was all the food I received. Perhaps they intended to 
renew the ration next morning; indeed, it is possible they might 
have cared for me, if I had remained in this vault. This I did 
not. I could not. Darkness and solitude oppressed me so pow- 
erfully, that an inward restlessness compelled me to rise, and 
make an attempt to leave this hole. Perhaps this was a foolish 
step, but I could not for the world have been restrained from 
making it. Unfortunately I took the wrong direction. Instead 
of approaching the entrance, I wandered deeper and deeper into 
the labyrinth of chambers and passages, of which the cave con- 
sists. What I suffered since, no earthly language is able to ex- 
press. Excuse me, if I abstain from dwelling on the subject, for the 
very thought suffices to sicken me, and set my brain into a whirl.” 

Robert did not reply, but a compassionate pressure of the hand 
informed his companion that his words were fully appreciated. 

“But now,” continued the speaker, “tell me how you came to 
meet me here. Are you also a prisoner in the hands of the guer- 
rillas ?” 

“I am, Sir, and with me some twenty others.” 

“And where are these others?” 

“Right in the chamber here. The hardships of the day have 
sunk them into a deep slumber.” 

“And you alone remained awake? How fortunate for me!” 

“And for me. I loathed the pain and agitating thoughts which 
kept me awake — now I bless them.” 

“You are very kind to take such deep interest in a stranger.” 

“A stranger ? Ah yes, a stranger. But }'Ou give me too much 
credit for my actions. They are not merely dictated by compas- 
sion. Are you strong and wakeful enough to listen to a short 
story?” 

If the other could have seen Robert’s face, he would have won- 
dered at the powerful excitement which worked almost convul- 
sively in his features. This excitement betrayed itself even in 
his voice, and the stranger could hardly have failed to notice it, 
if his recent hardships had not, in a measure, dulled his power of 
perception. As it was, he merely replied: 

“Indeed I am, Sir. Your brandy has greatly enlivened my 
spirits.” 

Robert reflected a moment, then he began : 

“You asked me who I am. Has not my accent betrayed to you 
my Bavarian birth?” 

‘‘Why, yes, now since I think of it, I notice this accent. I am 
glad of this discovery, for I too am a Bavarian.” 


314 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“I knew it, Sir; but listen further. I am at present a lieuten- 
ant with the Bavarian jaegers. When this war broke out, I was in 
America — ” 

• ‘America?’’ interposed the other. 

“Yes, the United States. Would you remark something?” 

“No, no, Sir. The name awoke — but this is folly. Continue, 
Sir, continue.” 

“The news affected me powerfully, and, yielding to an irresist- 
ible impulse, I embarked for Fatherland. I reached it in time to 
participate in the battle of Weissenburg. Since then I have had 
a hand in nearly all the bloody conflicts of the war. 1 fought at 
Gravelotte; I was at Sedan; under the walls of Paris a chassepot- 
bullet ended my military career for a spell : it broke my arm for 
me, you see.” 

“Poor boy ! But, never mind, your arm will heal again, and a 
grateful country will reward your services.” 

“I have been rewarded, Sir. I began my career a private — now 
the straps adorn my shoulders.” 

“Not more than right, Sir. A man who thus hastens from an- 
other hemisphere to help his country, must be very brave. You 
ought to have the Iron Cross, Sir.” 

“My clii^f was kind enough to bestow upon me that badge of 
honor.” 

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear Sir. My heart beats louder in 
my breast, whenever I meet one of the brave warriors of my na- 
tion.” 

“Then you sympathize with Germany in her hour of trial?” 

“With all my heart, my boy. Who could remain indifferent in 
times like these ? It was not always so with me. There was a 
time — but what is that to you? Continue your story.” 

“There isn’t much left to be told, Sir. Indeed, what’s left be- 
longs rather to the past than to the present. Nor is it as credit- 
able as my record of the war. When I told you my achievements 
on the battle-field, I wanted you to remember them as an off-set 
for past follies.” 

“But why rake up these follies? It seems to pain you to men- 
tion them. Let them stay buried in the grave of time!” 

“Oh, thank you for these words ! If you will remember my 
virtues, and forget my foibles — ” 

“I will, I will; but let them rest now.” 

“No, Sir, that cannot — that must not be. Confession becomes 
the penitent : so listen. I was born and raised in Munich.” 

“That’s where I used to live.” 

“My father was a judge in the service of the crown.” 

“That’s my position.” 

“He was the kindest, of parents, until I grew old enough to have 
opinions of my own. I embraced the political views of Young 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON* 


315 


Germany, while my father belonged to the ultra-montane party. 
He frowned upon my creed, and forbade all intercourse with the 
men who, as he thought, misled me. If he was stern, I was stub- 
born. Regardless of his wishes, his dictates, I pursued a course 
which first produced an estrangement, and finally led to an open 
rupture between us. The war , of ’66 hastened the crisis. M}' 
father lost a hopeful son, my elder brother — ” 

“A son ! your brother!” echoed the other, with the voice of 
one who speaks in a dream. 

“This embittered his mind, and induced him to interdict with 
more than usual rigor all intercourse with my political connections. 
1 forgot that I was his son. I laughed at his orders; I scorned 
his threats, and in an evil hour I left the paternal roof never to 
return. Sa}^, are you still ready to overlook my past offences?” 

The other still sat like one dreaming. 

“How is this?” he said at last with a toneless voice. “Am I 
awake or dreaming? Do I really sit here, and hear you tell an 
old, sad, familiar story? Or have the hardships of this imprison- 
ment upset my reason, and mirrored before my crazed brain de- 
lusive fancies? Come, let me touch you. Are you real? Is all 
this real? Tell me again: you say — ” 

“Oh, this is unbearable,” Robert exclaimed with accents of 
agony. “Father, come to me ! Do not allow the powers of dark - 
ness to cloud up your reason! It is your son, your penitent, un- 
fortunate Robert, who speaks to you, and, from his inmost heart, 
begs your forgiveness. Speak, father ! Tell me that the father 
endorses the soothing sentiments which the stranger pronounced 
a while ago with so much kindness. Father, can you, will you 
forgive me?” 

The other sat silent for a whole minute which to poor Robert 
seemed an eternity. Then at once a solemn voice penetrated the 
darkness. 

“God Almighty, I thank Thee for this moment! Thy ways 
are dark and Thy judgments marvelous; but Thou carriest out 
Thy plans in glory ! Thou tookst from me my liberty and I 
murmured; and lo! through the night of my prison, Thou send- 
est me unspeakable bliss ! My son was taken from me ! My son 
has been restored to me, to shed sunshine upon the days of old 
age! Robert, my Robert! My dear, my only son!” 

He felt for the young man in the darkness, and, a second later, 
the two lay in each other’s arms. 

It was a happy as well as solemn moment. Father and son 
united after a long and painful separation! They knelt inter- 
locked in each other’s embrace, as if they meant never to part 
again. Tears mingled freely on their cheeks, and again and 
again the loving words “my father” “my son” vibrated through 
the darkness. 


316 THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 

“And }^ou will really forget and pardon?” Robert inquired, af- 
ter the first intoxication of delight had spent itself. 

“Mention it no more, Robert,” his father replied gravely. “I 
need forgiveness as well as you. If you forgot your duty as a 
son, I overstepped the prerogatives of the father. Let us bury 
the past, and rejoice in the blissful present. We have so much 
to say to one another! Tou surely want to hear about your 
mother and sister, and I, for my part, burn with impatience to 
learn the history of your exile. Come, let us wile away the tedi- 
ous hours by exchanging our news.” 

“Not now, father; not now. I fear you over-estimate your 
strength. You are feverishly excited, and therefore unconscious 
of fatigue. But that cannot last. Your late hardships will soon 
tell with double force, and, if you don’t husband your strength, 
it may fail you in the crisis which is sure to come. Here, take 
another sip from my flask, and then endeavor to catch some slum- 
ber. Eager as I am to learn about the dear ones at home, I can af- 
ford to wait until a good night’s rest has recruited your strength.” 

The other pressed his hand. 

“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “Indeed I feel even now a 
leaden weight pressing on my eyelids. Let me have the dram, 
and then good-night. Good-night , my boy, and may a kind Pro- 
vidence guard and bless your slumber!” 

Robert responded to the wish, and then assisted in making his 
father as comfortable as he could. This accomplished, he lay down 
by his side, listening to his breathing, and combatting the drow- 
siness that began to settle on his own eyes. No sooner had he 
convinced himself that his dear companion had fallen asleep, than 
he ceased to struggle against nature. His eyes closed, and, a 
minute later, a sound, healthful slumber made him forgetful of 
both the joys and sorrows of that eventful day. 

Haller and his men lay in ambush all the night without dis- 
covering a trace of the enemy. Nobody entered or left the cave 
during the hours of darkness, and the major began to doubt the 
correctness of David’s information, when, at the hour of dawn, 
a low whistle from one of the sentinels attracted his attention. 
A moment afterwards he was informed that a body of about one 
hundred men approached the quarry in an eastern direction. They 
were so near already that Haller had hardty time to prepare for 
their reception. He withdrew his men to the brow of the hill, 
ordering both wings to fall down to the river bank, and close in 
upon the guerrillas as soon as they had reached the spot abreast 
the quarry. 

The jaegers were still engaged in climbing the hill, when the 
franc-tireurs made their appearance on the road below. It was. 
barely twilight, and the bushes of the hill-side in a measure con- 
cealed the movements of the jaegers. However, seven hun- 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


317 


dred men cannot accomplish so rough an ascent without mak- 
ing more or less noise, and the franc-tireurs evidenty began to 
suspect that something was wrong, for they halted on the road, 
and sent only a few men up the hill to reconnoitre the entrance 
of the cave. 

This measure decided their fate. Seing the impossibility of 
hiding the further movements of the jaegers, the officers in com- 
mand of the wings substituted rapidity for secrecy of motion, 
and hurried their men with the greatest dispatch down hill to the 
river-bank. Perhaps the bushwhackers might still have effected 
their escape; but the sudden appearance of so large a number of 
men who shook the bushes and the ground with their rapid strides, 
bewildered them, and presented them from forming that quick 
resolution which alone was able to save them. When they awoke 
from their stupor it was too late. True, they took to their heels 
with a good will, but found the way both up and down the river 
barred by a double row of glistening steel. The jaegers advanced 
with firm and rapid steps, driving the frightened franc-tireurs be- 
fore them like so many sheep. Soon the doomed bushwhackers 
stood compressed in a dense mass, shouting and screaming, and 
making frantic efforts to break the lines of their assailants. When 
they found flight impossible, they turned at bay and began to fire 
upon the jaegers, who returned the compliment with interest, and 
discharged their rifles with fearful effect into the dense crowd. 
At the same time the officers summoned the guerrillas at the top 
of their voices to surrender; but the din of the fight either drown- 
ed their voices, or the free-booters disdained to benefit by the 
proffered chance. They certainly did not lay down their arms, 
but continued their frantic efforts to escape. Some ran up hill to 
be received by the jaegers above; others sprang into the river ei- 
ther to be drowned, or to be killed by the bullets which the Ger- 
man sharpshooters sent after them with unerring certainty. Two 
or three escaped across the river, but the majority were either 
captured or killed. The whole fight only lasted half-an-hour. At 
the expiration of that time, seventy franc-tireurs lay dead on the 
ground, while some twenty stood captives in the hands of the 
jaegers. 

But we must retrace our steps, and chronicle a scene which oc- 
curred near the mouth of the cave at the beginning of the fight. 
When the alarm was first sounded, and the rifles commenced to 
crack below, a band of some fifteen bushwhackers rushed from 
the cave to learn the cause, and to assist their fellows. The jaegers 
were posted some twelve feet above them, holding a ledge which 
rose almost perpendicularly from the ground below. Haller too 
had taken his position at that place. 

“Throw down your arms!” he cried in French, “or we shall fire.” 

The fellows looked up, and, when they saw fifty barrels pointed 


318 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


at their breast, shrank back in dismay. All but one obeyed the 
summons of the major. This one seemed to be their leader. He 
evidently was a fierce fellow; for when he looked up and noticed 
the enem} r , a savage curse escaped his lips. At the same time he 
drew a revolver, and discharged several bullets with so much pre- 
cision that they whistled in dangerous proximity to Haller’s per- 
son. The jaegers were on the point of discharging their rifles, 
when a sudden “stop! don’t fire!” caused them to pause. It was 
Schultze’s voice that thus saved the bushwhacker’s life. 

“I know that viper,” he cried, “and want to catch him alive.” 

Before the jaegers could divine his intention ; before the bush- 
whacker below could take measures to thwart it, Schultze made 
an. onset, and leaped down amongst the frightened crowd. So well 
had he measured the distance, that he lit right upon the ledge in 
front of the hostile leader. Even in rising from the stoop, into 
which the leap had forced him, he made a grasp at the other’s 
throat. We know that Schultze was a man of no ordinary strength, 
and his design would undoubtedly have succeeded, if he had exe- 
cuted it with a little more deliberation. As it was, he thrust his 
hand with so much force against the free hooter’s throat that the 
fellow flew back, before Schultze had secured a firm hold. He 
fell much like a wooden pin which a sudden blow has knocked 
off its base, drawing into his fall a couple of guerrillas behind him. 
and then tumbled down a steep ledge of nearty thirty feet which 
had been formed by the excavations of the quarry. A* shudder 
ran through friend and foe. Even Schultze was startled at this 
unexpected issue of his attempt. With hesitating step he ap- 
proached the ledge, and gazed into the depth below. A fearful 
sight met his eye. On the rocky bottom of the caldron lay the 
mangled corpse of the man whom this very attempt of taking him 
alive had laid into an early grave. The rocks were colored with 
his blood, and from his head ran a stream of the precious fluid 
with which life had ebbed away. 

Schultze was still gazing upon the horrid sight, when, all at 
once, a joyful exclamation behind him caused him to start and 
turn with alacrity. A new actor had appeared on the scene as if 
by magic. Before the cave stood Robert, the long and sadly 
missed friend. Was this real, or had the horrid vision affected 
his brain? But no ! The others saw their favorite as well. Hal- 
ler hastens near; the jaegers shout and hurrah, and the object of 
all this commotion smiles, and extends his sound arm and cries: 

“Halloh, friend Schultze! How now?” 

Then Schultze awakens from his trance. He jumps towards his 
friend, and closes him in an embrace which only his regard for 
the broken arm makes endurable. 

“Hurrah!” is his first word. Then he begins to scold. 

“Is that the way to get a broken arm healed?” he cries. “What 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 319 

in the name of sense are you doing? Creeping about in damp 
caverns, eh?” 

But before Miller is capable of answering, Haller has reached 
and monopolized him. The jmgers also crowd near, and offer him 
a friendly welcome. He continues to be. the center of attraction, 
until, all at once, other figures begin to emerge from the bowela 
of the earth, and claim a portion of the common attention. The 
first form is that of a middle-aged man, evidently unknown to 
everybody save Haller. When the major first sees him, he starts 
back with alarm and consternation. 

“Judge Feller!” he exclaims. “How is this possible? You in 
the hands of French bushwhackers?” 

A smile flitted across, the judge’s face. 

“Yes, and liberated b}^ Major Haller. That’s what I call heaping 
fiery coal upon a stubborn head. Major will you receive both my 
thanks for present favors, and my apologies for past offences?” 

He offered his hand which the other received as in a trance. 

“I hardly comprehend this,” he stammered. “You in this di- 
lemma! You so kind, so friendly to me, after — ” 

“After a past which we will not revive,” the judge interrupted 
him with another and even warmer pressure of the hand. “I am 
so happy to-day that I bear no ill-will to my worst enemy, much 
less to my liberator from such frightful durance.” 

“I do indeed congratulate you on the recovery of your freedom.” 

“And why not on the recovery of that other and greater bles- 
sing? He told me you were his warm and steadfast friend.” 

“Whose friend?” 

“Why, Robert’s, of course. Do you, perhaps, reject his 
friendship?” 

“I would not dream of such a thing. But what did you mean 
by ‘ that other and greater blessing ?’ ” 

“What? Don’t you know — ” 

Just then Robert laid his hand upon the judge’s arm. 

“Let me make the revelation,” he said with smiling lips. Then 
turning to Haller and Schultze he said with accents of the purest 
happiness : 

“Gentlemen, allow me to present to you my father, Justizrath 
Feller, of Munich, Bavaria. So, the secret is out of the bag, and 
now do me the favor to delay all exclamations of wonder and sur- 
prise to a more favorable opportunity. This is not the very pleas- 
antest abode, and, if you have no objection, we might as well de- 
part for more agreeable quarters.” 

The others all seemed to share this opinion, and a general com- 
motion initiated the departure from the spot, when Schultze sud- 
denly seemed to recollect something and stopped his friend. 

“See here,” he said, laying his hand on Robert’s arm, “do you 
know that he is dead?” 


320 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


“ He ? who is he?” 

“The man who more than once sought your life.” 

“Dupre?” Robert inquired, with a start. 

Instead of answering, Schultze led him to the ledge and pointed 
down. Robert saw and shuddered. 

“That is fearful!” he stammered. “He fell into the very trap 
which he so often set for me. Come, let us go ; the sight is 
sickening.” 

A minute later the quarry lay deserted. The jaegers formed on 
the road, and awaited the order to march. The officers held a 
short council. The question, where to go, was submitted to their 
deliberation. At that moment Delmont stepped up to the group. 

“If you will deem it no intrusion,” he said, “I shall be happy 
to offer you the hospitality of my castle. You will find there 
comfortable quarters, and, probably, if the free-booters have not 
plundered everything, sufficient provisions for your men.” 

Mr. Feller stood in the circle, when the young Frenchman ad- 
vanced this offer. He looked at him sharply, and a gleam of re- 
cognition flew* over his face. He stepped up to him and offered 
his hand. 

“Why, that is my young protege and prisoner,” he said. “Have 
you forgotten me, lieutenant?” 

Delmont blushed more deeply than the occasion seemed to war- 
rant. He took the proffered hand, and said: 

“How could I forget you, Sir? Do I not owe my recovery 
chiefly to your kindness and the tender care I received at your 
house?” 

“Don’t mention the trifles, Sir. But it strikes me you are los- 
ing flesh again. Perhaps you ought to have remained a little 
longer under the treatment of my ladies.” 

“Oh, I am well enough; but such dreadful tragedies are enough 
to break down the stoutest constitution.” 

“What do you allude to ? You have sustained no losses, I hope?” 

“Indeed I have, Sir. My poor uncle was burnt to death last 
night by these deluded people.” 

“Merciful heavens ! How is that possible?” 

“It is certainly incomprehensible. But you do not know the 
worst: What will you say, when I inform you that the father was 
murdered at the instigation of the son?” 

A look of horror became visible on every face around. 

“And this monster of a son: is he living ?” 

Delmont shook his head. 

“His mangled body lies in the bottom of the quarry.” 

Now it was Robert’s turn to become attentive. He turned to 
Schultze and said in a whisper: 

“I do not understand this. This young officer seems to be a 
relative of Dupre. What is his name?” 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 321 


“Delmont ! p 

If a galvanic battery bad discharged its current upon Robert, 
he could not have received a greater shock. This Delmont, the 
brother of Pauline ! Need we wonder that he voted in favor of 
going to the castle? 

That step was really decided upon, and, an hour later, the whole 
company, officers and privates, were comfortably quartered in the 
spacious apartments of the Delmont-Castle. 

When the jaegers that morning marched to Delmont Castle, no- 
body contemplated a longer sojourn at that place; but, in reply 
to a dispatch in which Haller telegraphed the result of his expe- 
dition to headquarters, he received the order to leave the jaegers 
as a garrison in the region, under the command of the oldest cap- 
tain, and only report in person at V ersailles. This suited eveiy- ' 
body, including the major, for Judge Feller, the father of Hilde- 
gard, declared his intention of traveling in his company. True, 
he had to part from Hildegard’s brother; but this separation was 
sweetened by divers circumstances, which I cannot withhold from 
the reader. In the first place, Robert had whispered in the ma- 
jor’s ear that the judge had repeatedly thrown out mysterious 
hints concerning an old love-affair which had once wrecked on 
his opposition, but now enjoyed his most decided approval. Sec- 
ondly, he had betrayed to his friend the fact that the judge had 
written a letter to his wife and daughter, directing them to re- 
pair to Delmont-Castle by the next safe opportunit}' that might 
offer. With these communications as a solace, the major departed 
in great glee, taking with him Feller the father, while Feller the 
son remained at the castle, nursed by Delmont and protected by 
Schultze and his jsegers. His acquaintance with Victor soon 
ripened into a firm friendship, their common love for Pauline 
proving a powerful tie. Schultze also bestowed his affection upon 
the young Frenchman, quickened perhaps by the consciousness 
of the wrong which he had done to both brother and sister by 
his unfounded suspicions. 

Two weeks afterwards Mrs. Feller and Hildegard arrived at the 
castle. Delmont received them at the nearest railroad-station, 
and cautiously prepared them for the meeting with the long lost 
son and brother. Need I say that this recovery spread new sun- 
light upon their faces, and instilled a deeper happiness into their 
hearts? Need I add that a few words of Robert, whispered into 
his sister’s ear, had by no means the effect of blighting this new- 
born bliss; but rather charmed fresh roses unto her cheeks? All 
this is too deeply founded in human nature to require a special 
mention. I may therefore as well proceed to state that Halier 
received frequent furloughs to visit Delmont-Castle, and that his 
permits were accompanied with a full-power, a carte blanche of 
Judge Feller to court his daughter. The major was too resolute 


322 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


a man to neglect such splendid opportunities, and, four weeks af- 
ter the arrival of the ladies, he was abl^ to announce to Schultze 
with a radiant face that he had won himself a “Braut,” which, in 
the German language, means nothing less than one affianced or 
betrothed. 

In the meantime Robert recovered from his wound; but the so- 
journ in the cave and the hardships preceding and following it, 
had so much aggravated the evil, that his arm was hardly well, 
when the joyful news of the surrender of Paris, and the conclu- 
sion of the war made the walls of Delmont-Castle ring with the 
shouts of its inhabitants. Consequently he could only in spirit 
accompany his comrades on their glorious marches and expedi- 
tions. As a general thing he exulted in their achievements ; but 
sometimes he conld not suppress a murmur of dissatisfaction at 
the thought that he had to lie idle while others plucked such co- 
pious laurels. 

Let me enumerate in rapid succession the principal engagements. 
The army of the Loire exhibits a truly brilliant record. After 
the blood} 7 battle of Artenay, which lasted from the 2nd to the 
oth of December, it succeeded in retaking Orleans. On the 7th, 
it fought at Neung and La Cordon; on the 8th at Beaugency; on 
the 9th at Blois; on the 16th and 17tli at Vendome, Epuisay and 
Drove. On the 21st it took Tours; on the 31st it fought at Ven- 
dome and Bonny, and from the 6th to the 12th of January ’71, it 
gained the bloody victory of Le Mans. 

The army of the north, meanwhile, was not idle. Two battles 
of first magnitude adorn its records. I say battles, because in 
this instance, battles means victories. The entire war cannot ex- 
hibit a single French victory . Even the second battle at Orleans 
was nothing but an orderly retreat of 20,000 before 200,000, in 
which the obstinate resistance of the brave Bavarians caused 
some inconsiderable loss. But to return to the record of the 
army of the north. The first battle alluded to took place Decem- 
ber the 23rd, on the banks of the small river Ilallue, north of 
Amiens; and the second at the city of Quentin, Jan. the 19th, ’71. 
Both battles foiled and utterly frustrated the attempts of the ef- 
ficient Fai d’ herbes to relieve Paris. 

Lastly we have to say a word about the arnc^ of the east. It 
had at first performed an indiffernnt role in the great drama of 
war. To defeat the legions of Garibaldi had been an easy task, 
to perform which a small arm} 7 had fully sufficed. But lately a 
change in the tactics of the French had necessitated a change on 
the part of the Germans. Bourbaki had been entrusted with the 
command of a large and efficient army, whose task was to destroy 
the Gj^man^f front, and then to penetrate into Southern 

GjtniWiy to^give to her inhabitants a taste of hostile invasion. 
The plan was not bad; the situation grave. One lost battle would 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 323 

have placed the French in possession of the Vosges Mountains, 
and jeopardized all the German lines of communication. 

The Germans had already gained the battles of Langres, on 
Dec. the 16th, and of Nuits, Dec. the 18th; but although bloody 
enough — especially the latter — they sink into insignificance, when 
compared with the sanguinary battle which was fought on Jan. 
the 15th, 16th and 17th, at and near the town of Montbeliard. 
The French aimed at relieving the sorely-pressed garrison of Bel- 
fort ; but, to reach it, they had to break the German line. This 
line was long and thin; moreover, the assailants numbered seven 
to three; but in spite of their* greatest exertions, in spite of a 
protracted struggle of three days, they did not succeed in break- 
ing one single link in the German chain. The brave fellows knew 
the dangers of a defeat. They said to each other : The Frenchers 
shall not break through — and they didn’t. From that battle dates 
the retreat of the French in that region. They were threatened 
in every direction, and their retreat soon degenerated into a rout. 
Some were captured, others killed, while the greater portion, 
80,000 men, saw no other salvation but to cross the Swiss frontier, 
where they were disarmed and interned until the conclusion of 
the war. 

At Paris the besieged continued their bloody but useless efforts. 
They made sorties on the 21st and 25th of December, and when, 
on the 27th, the German batteries began to belch forth their fire 
against the city, they gave vent to their rage in three more sallies, 
which date Jan. the 14th, 15th and 19th, and terminated alike in 
the repulse of the attacking party. Finally, on the 27tli of Jan., 
the Paris Government saw the uselessness of further resistance, 
and opened negotiations for peace wh ichwere perfected on the 
28th, and soon led to the cessation of hostilities all over the coun- 
try. The reader is aware that the ratification of the treaty of 
peace has not yet been made. He is moreover aware that internal 
dissensions complete the ruin of the once beautiful city of Paris. 

It may therefore suffice to pay another visit to Paris. The siege 
is over ; the Germans have as yet forborne to make their tri- 
umphal entrance. The admittance to the city is really interdicted; 
but a favored few find no difficulty in avoiding the barriers. Vic- 
tor Delmont is one of these favored few. He has known Paris 
in her days of splendor; but he does not go now to study her 
misery. He is attracted, hurried by brotherly love. Robert has 
accompanied him to the line of demarkation, and, as he cannot 
go with him any further, he gives him at least the street and 
number where his sister resides. Where she resides , provided the 
hardships and perils of the siege have not long ago claimed her 
as a victim. What a torturing thought! How the poor lad hur- 
ries to embrace her, and yet again tarries from fear of receiving 
the dreadful news of her death. At last the house is reached, 


324 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


the bell is rung. The door opens and the first face he meets is 
that of Jean, his old servant and play-mate. He grasps his arm 
convulsively, and cries : “My sister, Jean?” 

“Why, Lord,” the faithful fellow cries, “is that really you, Mon- 
sieur Victor? I never expected to see you again.” 

“Never mind me, Sir,” Victor cries, impatiently, tightening his 
grasp. “My sister, Jean, my sister ?” 

“Auch, Sir,” cries Jean, “let go my arm. You pinch it blue 
and black.” 

“You blockhead, can you not speak ? How is my sister?” 

“Oh, she is all right. That is she isn’t either; for if she don’t 
change before long, she’ll grieve herself to death, Sir. She cries 
from morning till night, and from night till morning. There’s 
something the matter here.” 

Jean pointed significantly to his heart. Victor, however, knows 
what he wants to know. He flies up stairs and knocks. The door 
opens, and, with a cry of joy, Pauline sinks into his arms. They 
hug and kiss each other; but no sooner is the first excitement 
over, when the precarious symptom to which Jean had alluded 
makes its appearance. Pauline cries and cries, as if her heart 
would break. In vain Victor tries to console her. At last he says: 

“But, Pauline dear, what does this signify? Do 3^011 know who 
gave me } r our address? Do 3^011 know who waits impatiently for 
me to lead you from this cityT* 

She nods, but his words onty make the tears come faster. 

“Pauline! What under heaven does this signif3 r ? Don’t you 
love Robert?” 

“Alas! I do— too well,” she sobs. “If I did not, — I would — 
not cry — so much.” 

“You speak in riddles, Pauline,” cries the amazed brother. 
“You ci*3 r because you love him?” 

“Yes, and because — I pledged 1113’ hand — to Alcibiades, — if he 
— would only — save 1113" Robert — from — the prison.” 

A ray of joy flits over Victor’s face. 

“Poor girl!” he cries. “If that is all that ails you : cheer up. 
Dupre will never wed you. He has been married to a fearful bride. 
The cold and dismal grave has been his bridal-chamber.” 

A tremor passes through the weeping maiden. Her tears cease 
as if by magic. 

“Brother!” she cries with startling vehemence. “Alcibiades 
dead! You do not mock me? You do not attempt to deceive me? 
Oh, Victor, 1113" reason could not stand such fearful sport.” 

“So help me God 111 my dying hour : I speak the truth.” 

And now this sudden, this marvc'ous change! She rises; she 
shouts; she dances; she falls upo. , is neck and hugs and kisses 
him. Then suddenh' she sinks upon her knees and offers thanks 
for her delivery" , The next moment, however, she is upon her 


THROUGH BLOOD AND IRON. 


325 


feet again, to dart from the room and pour into Jeannette’s ear 
the glorious news. Victor smiles, but tear upon tear rolls down 
his cheeks, and his face wears such a melancholy look, that we feel 
tempted to believe in some affliction of his own. 

But this does not last. The next minute Pauline has again en- 
gaged his whole attention. She consults him in reference to her 
intended departure and makes all needful preparations. At length 
the wished for moment arrives, and, after a short and lucky trip, 
Pauline flies into the arms of Robert. From that time the mel- 
ancholy expression in Victor’s countenance deepens. He cannot 
seej.Lu sappiness of others. When Robert and his sister caress 
"each other, he smiles so sadly that it looks like crying. But when 
he sees Herman and Hildegard together, he frowns. What can 
it mean? Has he been conquered twice? Has he surrendered his 
sword to German valor and his heart to German loveliness? Poor 
boy! Thy love is not requited, and we might almost wish on 
thy account, that the sword which wounded thee at Woertli had 
gone a little deeper and found its way into thy heart. This wound 
thou mayest, perchance, carry with thee to thy dying hour. But 
we will not mar our satisfaction by dwelling on his grief. Let 
us rather join the two happy couples at the double wedding which 
took place four weeks ago at Delmont-Castle. Judge Feller and 
his wife are present, and so is Aspasia, the spinster, who does 
not fancy the idea of breaking her old tongue with the barbarous 
Teutonic idiom, but hides her dissatisfaction with the skill of the 
diplomate who smiles at bad terms, when he cannot secure good 
ones. Schultze is there, of course. He officiates as groomsman 
at the wedding, and we should wonder at his unusually radiant 
face, if we had not seen him take Robert and Haller aside that 
very morning, to show them a letter which had arrived the even- 
ing before. That letter announced to him the reconciliation with 
his family. 

Victor is not present at the wedding. At first he plead official 
duty as an apology for his absence; but when Pauline pouted and 
would accept no such trifling excuse, he requested a private in- 
terview. What took place then we cannot tell. All we know is 
that Pauline retnrned from it with tear-stained eyes, and that she 
no longer complained of the insufficiency of his excuses. May 
the future bring him oblivion, and bestow upon the others all 
the happiness which they deserve. 

THE END. 


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